Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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^^^^^ N ?P^- -:---:-;-.-=ss^-'--:-1-"" ~ :-"~ - ??-:-r*. i SUMTER WATCHMAN, Established April, 1850. "Be Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thou Aims't at, be thy Country's, thy God's asd Truth's " THE TKUK SOCTSROK, Kgt&is?iehed jun?, I8*J8 fe ?w?lin^a in?. 2. mif? SUMTER. S. G., "WEDNESDAY. APRIL ?7, 1889. New Serics-Yol. tilt No. 37. . Wfl?&ei 070T7 ?Tadaeaday, Br N. O. OSTEEN, Si?tiYER, S. C. TKRMS : Two Dollars per annum-in advance. ?DVSSTiStYlSTS. O&e jSqaare, 6rst ins?rtfoo..$1 0<i Every aesseqoent insertion.. 50 Ooo tracts for three months, or longer will be made at reduced rates. AH commnmicattons which subserve private 'fcterests wi il be charged for as"t3verl5sersents. * Obituaries and tributes of resect " will be Charged for. POWDER 'Absolutely Pure. This powder never varies. A marvel of parity, strength a rfd wbotes>o?eoess. More ^ccooottica] Tfeaa the ordinary kinds, and can 1 not be BOTd ia competition with the multitude .'of low test, short weight, alum or phosphate ?powders. Sold only in cans. ROYAL BAK? ING POWDER CO., 106 Wall-st., N. Y. JSPRING IEDICINE. CHIPMAN'S LIVER PILLS. A Sore Cure for Sick Headache, MAJJAJRIA, ANO ALL Bi LI9?S TROUBLES. Sold by all druggists. March 27-3m CATARRH Try the Cure Ely's Cream Bal rn deacses the Nasal Passages. Al? tos Inflammation. Heals the Soros. Hestores tho Senses of Taste, Smell and Hearing. A&article is applied into ?act? nostrti -ana tMtfpreemble. Price 50r. at Dra?K?*t? or by -^. .pqrr S ^CT*I?RS,56 Warren St ,New York. Intelligent Headers will notice that M's Pills ltre> not "vrarranted io cure** all classe? of .disease*, hat only such a? result fsa, ni a disordered liver, viz: Vertigo, Headache, Dyspepsia, Fevers, Costiveness, Bilious Colic, Flatulence, etc. Tos* these they are not warranted in? fallible, but are as nearly so as it is nos* .sJLpJe to aiake a remedy. I* ri ce, 25c ts? ?OLX> EVEltYWHEliK. Af any dealer gays he ha? the W. L. Dovelas ?hoe? without name and prto? ?tamped OD tbs pottom, pat him. down as a fraud* Ws L. DOUGLAS $3 SHOE GENTLEMEN. .Best ia A? world. Examine hi? IXE HA.ND- SKW ED SH OE. *3JK> POLICE AND FARMERS'SHOE. F2J? EXTRA VALUE CALE SHOE. WORKINGMAN S SHOE. TOrtir* 9%AQ sad S1.75 BOYS? SCHOOL SHOES. AB toad? Ia Congress, Button and Lace. W, L. DOUGLAS 83 SHOE LADIES. Best Material. Best Style. Best Fittinff. Ii ?ot sold by your dealer, -j?g*^. "-w-j WAC? W. L. DOUGLAS, LOCKTON, MAS? FOR SALE BY J. Eyttenberg & Sons, Agents, Jao. 16_SUMTER, S. C. ft A ?P? Ls on flip rn Ph i 1 ?*lphla f*M?tlla*Tho Newspaper AQver ??J Jg gag' "dp* Agpncy of M-wra t4> IR * fOSJ. our authorised agents Back from the Jaws of Death. The Remarkable Recovery of Ap. Frier son of Clarendon County. Our readers will remember the terri? ble accideot that befell Ap. Frierson of Forestoo about a year ago. He fell against a rapidly revolving shaft of a saw mill, and tbe head of an iron bolt on this shaft ground oat a path through bis forehead, on a Hue with his nose, the entire upper part of bis nose and the middle of his forehead for about au inch aod a half wide and more than an inch deep being cut away by . fife 'tn'i cbioery. The accident happened at Greeleyville. When Frierson was picked up no one for an instant thought be could live, but be was at once taken to Forestoo and put under the treatment of Br. L. W. Nettles,"who examined the wound. He foend all the upper part of the o ass. I bone gone; the fiesb and bene of the for? head cut away and gone ; the membrane that covers the brain broken, SBd a part of the brain bad been cut away along with the bone and flesh, lt was a fearful sight. But the doctor resolved to do all he could for him. Fever and {inflammation was prevented. Everything was favorable. The pa? tient had to be kept on his back for ^weeks. Had be turned over on his face'fess brains would have fallen out ! Had he had an attack of vomiting it would have poved fatal. We saw him several times while in this codition. ?and'could plainly see the pulsations of die brain. For days and weeks be thus stood, balancing between life and death. But after a while suppurative granulation set in, and the parts began to heal. The brain became sufficiently covered to preveut its falling out, and Frierson got up and w alkea about. He then came to Manning to raise money for the alleged purpose of going to Charles? ton to get in the hospital, as his folks were too poor to support him, but the Charleston authorities declined to re? ceive him without pty, and while here he showed bis wouod to those who would look at it, but it was such a fearful looking sight that many would not see it. Such is a brief resume of this terrible accident. Last Saturday we were in Foreston and saw Frierson. He has for months been able to go at his regular work. His fece is somewhat disfigured, the upper pa rt-of his nose beiug even with the cheeks, and one of his eyes looked bad. But the ?age trench in his forehead has been'fiNed in by a new growth of flesh, so that twe would never suppose that once hts brain bad poured out there. One or two '.small sores in this new flesh remained unhealed. Jt is wonderful what ?great vitality some possess. Not one mao*tc?a hun? dred thousand could have 8too?-?a?? Bhock. Frierst*? may well be said to > have come "back from thc jaws of death, back from the mouth of hell." it is the most remarkable recovery we ever . knew or beard ?t.-ManmW Times. Where They Discourage Tramps. The regular traa*p of the north is hardly to 'be f&and in the Carolinas. Now-and then a negro who bas had to "skip" from some neighborhood goes wandering about until run in by a coostable, but the sight of a white tramp in the country is very rare. I was out looking over a plantation one day when one of thu hands came.up and reported a white man asleep on the roadside A dozen of the laborers were summoned and we marched down to the 6pot. He was a sure enough white tramp, and he had stretched out for a snooze. Each negro cut a switch from-a?bit of swamp, and the wanderer was then aroused. "Where are you from ?" was asked. "Ohio." "What brought you here?" "Traveling for my health." "is ?your health good T1 "Tolerably fair." "And what's your gate ?" "Three miles au hour on the average." "Well, we'll give you a send-off up 'he hill. Paton a tosic, boys." They laid the switches on to him with hearty good will, following him for forty rods, and he never looked back as he rose the bill. The next day I saw him at a railroad station eleven miles away, and while thc train was waiting a constable collared him, headed him down the track and started him off with a "lift" which loosened the roots of hi3 hair- Tweaty rods away the man halted long enough to shout back : "If thar's ary Yankee on that train, t want him to take notice of bow north? ern capitalists seeking investments iu this country are made to feel at home and taken to the bosoia of the people !" -Detroit Free Frese Bill Nye's Hotel Rules. Hotel joint resolutions for U6e of hotel joint : Joint resolution No. 1. Called up for a first reading and referred. Washing done in hotel room will be charged for at regular laundry prices. This is not done so much for the pur? pose of encouraging the infant industry of washing in rooms as it is to foster aa-d eooourage the laundry at the hotel. No 2. People in reduced circum? stances ar? requested not to die in the house. No. 3. People who unavoidably die io the bouse are requested oot to do so as the refiwlt of a contagious disease. No 4. Guests who carry away key of room on gocag to Siberia or else? where will be charged with rent of room until they return. No. 5 Guests are requested to leave the towels oe going Away, as we eau use them later oe. No 6. Guests are requested to un? lock the door before committing suicide. No. 7. We will not be responsible for injury to baggage which may fall from back window of guests room dur? ing the night. No. 8. Guests contemplating suicide will please leave Gabriel call at office. No. 9. Guests who do laundry work io their rooms are requested not to take in washing from other guests, as it par? alyzes our cwt laundry. No. 10. Yc-UDg husbands who coa* template shooting their wives at this house will do well to inflict a fatal wound in themselves first. No. ll. Horses and carriages pro? vided at office for ?se of attests, but not allowed in room. No. 12. Guests will rfind a safe safe at office, provided e&pressry for tbeir use, for the safe keeping of valuables. They are cordially invitee1 to come and store them there, and the valuables will be returned if not available to tis. No. 13. Dogs will be charged table board and the owners will be required to pay double fare besides. Dogs will no' be allowed io rooms, under beds or under any circumstances whatever. No. 14 Guests are requested not to allow the bath tubs to overflow just to see bow the rugs will look floating about the room. No. 15. Children are provided with a separate dining room, where they may fill tbeir ears full of jam and put mayonnaise dressing in their bair if they are in the habit of doing so at home. No. 16. Persons who fall down the elevator shaft are requested to avoid pull ing off the plastering with their front teeth. No. 17. The fire escapes of this hotel are intended for the use of guests only. Other outside people, in case of fire, seeking to use these fire escapes, will be pushed back into the building again till they are done. No. 18. Guests from Arizona are requested to file down their spurs before retiring'at night.-Bill A[ys in -New York Herald. A Silver Wagon Road. "You may talk about nickel-fjlated railroads," said Vice-president L. T. Stanley, of Walnut street, "but what do you think of a solid silver wagon road If The Horseshoe Mine, in Colora? do, bas one, although when it was built they didn't know it would pan out that way. They had to have a road from their mioe, a distance of three miles, over which heavy loads were to be drawn. They took the rock that had been taken from the shafts they were sinking, and which lay around in the way, and McAdaroized thc road ali the way through. The wagons passing over the road ground . the rock down. One day they had a heavy rainstorm, and when things got dry again afrer the rain the wind blew tbe dust off the road, and all through the road-bed every which way, they could see big streak of silver. Well, maybe they didn't collar on to the rest of that loose reek that lay around those shafts! They sent away a lot of it to be assayed, and when the report came back they foc-nd that their road-bed was worth ?20$ a ton. it was a little expensive to drive over, but they had to have the road, and I suppose they've got it yet, if their mines have held out."-Philadelphia By E ? SIDES HAGGARD. ? CONTINUED. J CHAPTER Xii IDA GOES '70 UEET HEP. FATE. Most people of a certain age and a certain degree of sensitiveness of disposition, in look? ing back down the vista of tbeir h ves, whereon : memory's melancholy light plays ia fitful flashes i like ?tko alternate glow ot a censor swung in -tho:twilight of a tomb, can recall some one night of peculiar mental a^ony. One way or another it bas been, with moat of us, that long night of utter woo, and all wjll own that it is a ghastly thing to face. And so Ida de la Molle had found it. Tho shriek of the great gale rushing on that ^Christmas eve rouud tho stout Norman towers was not more strong than the breath of the despair that shook her life. She could ?not sleep--who could sleep-on auch a night, .the herald of such, a morrow! The wail and roar of the wind, the crash cf falling trees, and the rattle of flying stones seemed to form a fit accompaniment to the . turmoil of her mind. She rose, and putting on her dressing ;gown, went to the window,, and in the dim ?light watched tho trees gigantically tossing in a great struggle for their Jifa An oak and a birch wero within her view. The oak stood tho gale dat-for awhile. Presently there came an awful gust and beat upon it. It would not bend, and the tough roots would not give, so beneath-tho weight of the breath of its destiny .tho big tree broko in two like a -straw, and'its spreading top wan whirled into the moat. But the birch gave and bent ; it bent till its delicato filaments lay upon tho wind like a woman's streaming hair, and tho fierceness of the gust wore itself away and spared it. "See what happens to those who stand up and defy their fate," said Ida to herself, with a bitter laugh. "The birch has the best of it." Ida rose and closed the shutters; tho sight of tho storm affected her already strained nerves almost beyond bearing. She began to walk up and down the big room, flitting like a ghost from end to eud and bael: again, .and again back. What could she do? "What should sho do? lier fate was upon her; she could no longer resist the inevitable-she must marry him. And yet her wholo soul revolted from the act with an overwhelming fierceness which astonished even herself. Sho h:rd known two girls who had married people whom they did not like, being at tho time, or protending to bo, attached to somebody else, and sho bad observed that they accommo? dated themselves to their fate with consid? erable case. But it was not so with her; she was fashioned of another clay, and it mado her faint to think of what was before her. And yet the prospect was ono on which she could expect little sympathy, lie r own father, although personally he disliked the man whom she must marry, was clearly filled with amazement that sh? should prefer CoL Quar itch, middle aged, poor aud plain, to Eil ward Cossey-handsome, young, and rich as Croesus. Ile could not comprehend or mea? sure the extraordinary gulf which lier pas? sion dug between tho two. If, therefore, this was so with her own father, how would iti<e with the rest of the world/ She paced ber bedroom till she was tired, and then, in an access of despair which was sufficiently distressing in a person of her re? served and stately manner flung herself, weeping and sobbiug, upon he: knees, und resting her achiug head upon Uv? bed. prayed as she had never prayed before tl at this cup j might pass from her. She did not know-how should Rho?-that , at that very moment her prayer was being ; answered, and that her lover was th?n, even as she prayed. Hf ting tho broken stone and revealing t he hoard of ruddy gold. But so | it was, she prayed in despair and agony of i mind, and tho prayer, carried on tbe wild wings of the night, brought a fulfillment j with it. Not in vain were her tears and sup? plications, for even now the deliverer delved among Tho dost coo* awful treasures of the dead, and even now the light of her coming bajv pincas was breaking on her tortured night AI J the first cold gleams of the Christmas moi u- ? ing were breaking over the stormy fury of j the void without. And then, chilled and numb in bo?ly and mind, she crept into her bed again, and at | last lost herself in sleep. I By half past 9 o'clock, when Ida came down to breakfast, the galo had utt?rly'vanished, though i ts-footprints were '-visible- enough ih shattered trees, unthatche'd stacks, and ivy torn iii knotty sheets-from the ol<l walls is clothed. It would hare been difficult to recog? nize iu the cold and stately lady who stood at tbe;dining room window, noting the naroo and waiting for ter-father to come in, th* lovely, passionate, disheveled woman who some-few hours before luid thronen herse!/ upon her knees praying to God for tho succor she could not win fcom man. Women, like nature, have many moods, and many counte? nances to express them. The bot fit had passed, and tho cold fit was on her now. Uer fat*, except for the dark hollows round the eyes, was white as winter's snow, and her heart was cold os winter's ico. Presently her father carnean. "What a galol" he said, "what a galel Upon my word, I began to think tbat the old place was coming down about our ears, and the wreck among tho trees -ta dreadful. '? don't think there can have 'beet such a wind since the timo of King Charles % when the top cf the tower was blown clean off the church-you remember I was shoeing yo? the entry about it in the registers the other day, tho ono signed by the parson and old ?*?r James do la Molla The boy who has just come up tells me that he hears that poor old Mrs. Massey's summer house on the tot> of Dead Man's Mount has been blown a?? ay, which is a good riddance for Col Quaritch. Why, what's the matter with you! How pale you look I" "The galo kept me awake; I got very little sleep," answered Ida. "And no wonder. Well, my dear, you haven't wished mo a merry Christmas yet. Goodness knows we want one badly enough! There has not been much merriment at Hon ham of late years." "A morry Christmas to you, father," she said. "Thank you, my love; tho same to ybp. iou have got most of your Christmases be .fore you, which is more than I have. God bless me, it only seems like yesterday sinvo the big bunch of holly tied to the hook in the .ceiling there-fell down on tho breakfast table ^and smashed all the cups, and yet it is more than sixty yoars ago. Dear me, how angry my poor dear mother wasl She never could bear tho crockery to bo broken-it was a little failing of your grandmother's," and he laughed more heartily than Ida had heard him do for somo weeks. She mado no answer, but busied herself about the tea. Presently glancing up, she saw her father's face change. The "worn-ex? pression came back upon it, and be^lost 'bis buoyant bearing. Evidently a new thought bad struck bim, and she was in no great doubt as to what it was. "We bad better get on with breakfast," ho said. "You know that Cossey is coming up at 10 o'clock." -*'Ten o'clock r-she said, faintly. "Yes. I -told him '10, so that we could go .to church afterward if we wished to. Of course, Ida, I am still in the dark as-to what you have -mado up your mind to do; but whatever it is, I thought that ho had bettor once and for ali hear your final decision from your own lips. If, however, you feel your? self at liberty to tell it to me as your father, I shall be.glad to hear it." She lifted her head and looked -him full in the face and than paused, He bad a cup of .tea in his hand, and it was held in tho air half way to his mouth, while his whole face showed tho overmastering anxiety with which he was awaiting her reply. ""Make your mind easy, father," she said. ""I am going to marry Mr. Cossey." f?o put down the cup in such afashion that he spilled have of the tea, most of it over bia own clothes, without even noticing it, and then turned away nis face. "Well," be said, "of course it is net my. .affair, or 'at least only indirectly so, but 1 must say, my love, I congratulate you on the decision which you -have come to. I quite understand that you bavo been in-somo ?ttlo difficulty about tho matter; young women ?often havo been before you and will bo again; but to bo frank, Ida, that Quaritch business was not at all suitable, either iu ago ?or fortune, or -in anything else. Yes, al? though Cossey is not everything ?that one might wish, on the whole I congratulate you heartily." "Oh, pray don't," broke in Ida, almost ia s cry. "Whatever you do, pray-don't con? gratulate me!" Uer father turned round again and looked at her. But Ida's face had already recovered its calm, and he could make nothing of ii. "I don't <cuite understand you," he said; "theso things aro generally considered mat? ters for congratulations." But for all ho might say and all that ho m.'?ht urge iu his mind to the contrary, ho did, more or less, understand what her out? burst- meant, f?o could not but know that the exclamation was -tho last outcry of a broken spirit In his 'heart he realized then, if ho hav! never clearly realized it before, that tLis proposed marriage was a thing hateful to i is daughter, and his conscience pricked him sorely. And yet-and yet-it was but a womans fancy-a passing fancy I Sho would become reconciled to the inevitable os womeu do, and when her children came she would grow ac? customed to her sorrow, and 4|cr trouble would be forgotten in their laughter. And if uot-well, it was but ono wo? man's lito which would bo affected, and tho very existence of his race, and the Wj cradle that had nursed them from cer.ury to century, wcx*o now at stake. Wa* all tais to bc at tho mercy of a girl's faucyi Kol Lot tho individual suffer. So ho argued. And so at bis G?o and in bis circumstances most of \is would argue also; end, perhaps considering all things, we should bo right. For iuth.s world personal desires must contir.ua)ly give way to the welfaro of others. Did they uo? do so, our system of society could not endure. No more w?i said upon the subject. Lia made preter JO ci eating a pieMof toast; tho tho squirt; mopped up tho tea upon his clothes*, and then dran1: some moro. Meanwhile tho remorseless seconds crept on. It wanted but fi-e miuutes to tho hour, ned tho hour would, tho well knew, bring tho man with it* The fivo minutes passed slowly and in si? lence. Both, her father and herself realized tho nature of the impending situation, but neither o? them ?poko of it. Ah, there tras the sound of wht.-e?s upon thc gravel! So it had come. Wa felt like death itself. Her pulse rank and fluttered; her vital forces seemed to cease their work. Another two minutes passed, and then the door opened and the parlor maid came in. "Mr Cosssy, if you please, sir." "Oh," said the squiro. "Where is her "In the vest?bulo, sir." "Very good Tell him I will bo thero in a minute." The maid went "Now, Ida," said her father, "I suppcso wo haA ?vjtter g'*t this business over." "Yes," she answered, rising; "1 am ready.'' And gathering up uer energies, she passed ? out to meet I: er fat?. Cf?APTER XLIL GEO?.?E (S SEEN TO LA CC IT. Ida and her father reached the vest?bulo to j find Edward Cossey standing with his face j to tho mantelpiece and nervously toying j with somo curiosities upon it ll? was, as ! usual, dressed with great care, and his face, j though palo and worn fro:u the effects of J agitation of mind, looked, if anything, hand- ? somer than ever. As soon as he beard thprn : coni'iig, which, owing to his partial deafness '? ho dill not flo till they were quito close to j him. be turned round with a start, and a j sudden flush of color carno upon his fae??. Tho squiro Rhook hands with him in a 1 solemn sort of way, Uko people do when they . moor at a funeral, and Ida barely touched his outstretched fingers with her own. A few random remarks followed about the : weather, which really foronco in a way was ' equal to the conversational strain put uj>on . it, but at length theso died away, and there i ramo an awful pauso. It was broken at ! length by tho squire, who, standing with his i back to tho fire, his eyes fixed upon tho wall ! opposite, after much bumming and hawing, ; delivered himself thus: I "1 understand, Mr. Cossey, that you have J come to bear my daughter s final decision on < the matter cf the proposal of marriage which you have made and renewed to her. Now of course, this is a very important question very important indeed, and it is one witt which'I cannot presume even to seem to in ter?ere. Therefore I shall, without com? ment, leave my daughter to speak for her self." "One moment before she does so," Cossej interrupted, drawing indeed but a pool augury of success from Ida's icy looks. "J have come to renew my offer and to take m j final answer, and I beg Miss de ia Molle tc consider how deep and sincere must be thal affection which has endured through so man j rebuffs. 1 know, or at the least I fear, that J do not occupy the plaee in her feelings that 1 should wish to, but 1 look to time to change this; at any rate, I am willing to take my chance. As regards money, I repeat the offer that 1 have already made" "There, I should not say too much about that," broke in the squire,'impatiently. "Oh, why uot?" said ?lda,'?n bitter sarcasm. "Mr. Cossey kuows'it'is one of the best argu? ments with our sex. I presume that, as a preliminary to the renewal of tho engage? ment, the persecution of my father which ii being carried on by your lawvcr will cease." "Absolutely.* "And if the engagement is not renewed, the money will, of course, be called in?" "My lawyers-advise'that rt should be," he answered, sullenly; "but, see here, Ida, you may make your own terms abott money. Marriage, after all, is practically a matter of bargaining, and ? am not going to stand out about the price." "You are really most generous," went on Ida, in the same bitter tone, the irony of which made her father wince, for he under? stood her mood better than did her lover. "I only regret that I cannot appreciate the generosity more than I do. But it is at least in my power to give you tho return which you deserve. So I can no longer hesitate, but once and for all" And she stopped dead, and stared at the glass door as though sho saw a ghost. Both her father and Edward Cossey followed the motion of -her eyes, and-this was what they saw: Up the Steps came Cok Quaritch and George. Both were pale and weary looking, but the former was at least clean. As for George, this could not be said. Iiis head was still adorned with tho red night cap, bis hands were cut and dirty, and on bis clothes was an unlimited supply of incrustcd filth. "What the dickens"-began the squire, and at that moment George, who was lead? ing, knocked at the door. "You can't come in now," roared the squire. "Don't you see that we are en? gaged r "But we must como -in, squire, begging your pardon," answered George, with de? termination, as he opened the door. "We've got that to say as won't keep." "?I tell you that dt must keep, sir," said the <ol? gentleman, working himself into a rage. "Am I not to be allowed a moment's privacy in my own house? I wonder at your conduct, Cob 'Quaritch, in forcing your presence upon me when I tell you that it is not wanted." "1 am sure that I apologize, Mr. de la Molle," began the colonel, utterly takee aback, "but what I have to say is" "The best way that you can apologize is by withdrawing," Answered the squire, with .majesty. "I shall be most happy to hear what you have to say on another occasion." "Oh, squiro, squire, don't bo such a fule, begging your pardon ?for the word," said ^George, in exasperation. "Don't;go a-knock ing of your head agin a brick wall" "Will you be off, sirf roared -bis master, .ra a voice -that ?made ^he walls shake. By thia time Ida had recovered herself She seemed to feel that ber lover had some? thing to say that concerned her deeply-prob? ably she read it in his eyes. "Father," she said, raising her voice, "I won't have CoL Quaritch turned away from tho door like that. If you will not admit bim, I will go outside and bear what it is ?feat be has to say." In his heart tho squire held Ida in sof?rs awe. Ile looked at her, and saw that her eyes were flashing and her breast heaving, and he gavo way. "Oh, very well, since my daughter insists .on it, pray como in," and he bowed "If such mi intrusion falls In with your ideas of decency, it is not for me to complain." "1 accept your invitation," answered Harold, looking very angry, "becauso 1 have something to say which you must hear, and hear at once No, thank you, I will stand Now, Mr. de la Molle, it is this, wonderful as it nay seem. It has been my fortune to dis? cover the treasure hidden by Sir James de la Molle in tho year 1C43 " Thero was a universal gasp of astonish meut. "Whatr said tho squire. "Why, I thought that the whole thing was a myth." "No, that it ain't, .sir,"said George, wifn a melancholy smile, " 'cos I've seen it." ida had sunk into a chair. "What is tho amouut?" she asked, in a low, ( .eager voice? *"I have been unable to calculate exactly, "but, speaking roughly, it cannot bo much under fifty thousand pounds, estimated ea the value of the gold alone. Here is a speci? men of it," and Harold pulled out a baodfal cf rials and ot lier coins, and poured thom on to the trXSa. ??*a hid her face in her tend, and Edward Cossey, realizing what this unexpected de volopmeut of events might mean for him, began to tremble. "I should not allow myself to bo too much .?lated. Mr. do ta. Molle," ho said, with a sneer; "for even if this tale be true, it -is treasure trove and belongs to the crown."" MAh,"said the squire, "1 never thought of ahat." "But I have," said tbe colonel, quietly. "If ? remember right, tho last of the original De ia Moiles left a will in which he specially de? vised this treasure hidden by his father to your ancestor. That this is the identical treasure I nm fortunately in a position tc prove by this parchment;" and he laid thc writing that ho had found with the gold tpou the table. "?Quite right-quite right," said the squire; '*that will ta'::e it out of the custom." "Perhaps tho solicitor to the treasury may hold a different opinion,1' said Cossey, with unother sneer. Just then Ida took her hand from her face. There was a dewy look a!*-ut her eyes, and the last ripples of a happy smile lingered round the corners of her monti-. "Now, that we have heard what Cot Quarith hail to say," she said, in her softest voice, and addressing her father, "lhere is ne reason why wo should not finish our business wit h Mr. Cossey." Here Harold and George turned to go, but she waved them back imperiously, and be? gan speaking before any ono eoa'd interfere, taking up her speech where she had broken it off when phacaught sight of the colonel and ! George coming np the steps. "1 can no longer hesitate," she sahjL "but ! oii'-p r.i?! for all I deri.no to marry yob. Mr. j Cossey, and 1 hope that i shall never see your face again.1' At ibis.i.ij:<>un-:\inrnt thc bewildered squire j p:it his hand to his lr?*d. Efl ward Cossey ; staggered visibly and rested himself aguinst th? table, while George murmured, audibly "Thats a good job." "Listen,"' said Ida, rising from her chair, her eyes Hashing ns tho thought of all the shame and agony she had undergone rose in her mind-"listen, Mr. Cossey"-and she pointed her finger at him "this is the history of our connection. Sonja months ago I was so foolish, taking y-xi fora gentleman, as to ask your help in the matter of.?-he mortgages which your Kink was (Mil? ing io. You then practically made terms that if it should at any lime lo your wish J should become engaged io you; and I, .having I no option, accepte?!. Then, in tho interval, | while it was inconvenient to you to enforce vour rights, I gave my affection elsewhere. But when you, having deserted the lady w>V stood in your way-no, do not inter? rupt me. I know it, 1 know* ir all. I IrYtow it from lier own lips carno forward and claimed my promise, I w as forced to assent. Then a loop hole of escape presented itself, and I availed myself of it. What followed! You again became possessed of power over my father and this place, you insulted tho man 1 loved, you re? sorted to every expedient that the lav.- would allow to torture my father and myself. You set your lawyers upon us like dogs upo:' a hare, \"ou neid ruin over us, and again and again you offered me money, as much money as I wished, if Only 1 would sell myself to yon. And then you hided your ti me, dearing despair to do its work. I saw tho 'toils clos? ing round us. 1 knew that if I did not yield m'y father would be driven from his'home'in bis old age, and that the place be'loved'hot? ter than his life w?uld pass to strangcrs^ ' would pass to you- Nc, father, do not stop me, I will speak my mind. And at last Ieo termined that, cost what it might, I would yield. Whether I could havo-carried out my 'determination God only knows. 1 almbst 'thinii that I should have killed myself upon my marriage day. I mado up my mind. Not five minutes ago tho very words were upon my lips that would have sealed my fate, when deliverance came. And now go. I have done with you. Your moucy shall be paid to yon, capital and interest, down to the last farthing. 1 tender back my price, and knowing you for what you are, I-I de? spise you. That is all I have to say." "Well, if that bean't a mas.er one," 'Sja'eu :!ated George, aloud. ^H'a, who had never l?oked more beautiful than sho did in this moment of passion, turned to seat herself, brit thc tension of her feelings and tho torrent of her wrath and elo? quence had been too much for her, and sho would have fallen had not Harold, who had been listening, amazed, to this overpowering outburst of nature, run up and caught her in 'his arms. As for Edward Cossey, ho had shrunk back ^voluntarily beneath tho volumo of her scorn tillie steed with his back ogainstHhe panged wall Tlik face was white as a sheet; despair and fuiy shone fa his largo dark eyes. Never had ho desired this woman moro fiercely than he did -jow in tho mo? ment when ho know that she had escaped him forever. In a sense he was to bo pitied, for passion toro his heart in twain. For a moment he stood thus, and then, with a spring rather than a step, he advanced across the room till he was face to face with Har? old, who, with Ida half fainting still ia his arms and her head upon his shoulder, was standing on the further sido of the great open grate. 4>-you!*' bo said, "I owe this to voa, yo?, half .pay adventurer," and he lifted his arm as ihcugh -to strike him. "Come, none cf that!"' s?dd the squire, speaking for the first time. "I will have no brawling herc." "No," put in George, edging his long form between the two, "and begging your pardon, sir, don't you go a-calling of better men than yourself adventurers. At any rate, if the colonel is au adventurer, he bas adventured to some purpose, as is easy to sec;" and he pointed to Ida Jyi^S i:i his ai-ms. "Hold your tongue, sir," roared tho squire, os usual relieving his feelings on his re? tainer. *; You aro always shoving your oar in whero it isn't wanted." "All right, squire-all right," said George tho imperturbable; "then his manners shouldn't b? sich." "Do you moan'to allow this?" said Cossey, turning ficrcel}' to the old gentleman.. "Do you mean to allow this man to marry your daughter for her money?* "Mr. Cossey," answered tho squire, with his politest and most old fashioned bow, "whatever sympathy I may have felt for you is being rapidly alienated by your manner. I told you that my daughter must speak for herself. She has spoken very clearly, and in short I have absolutely nothing tc add to her words." "I tell you what it is," Cossey said, shaking with fury, "I have been tricked and fooled and played with, and so sure as there is a God above us I will lia ve my revenge on yo:- all somehow. Thc money that this man sa; ?that ho has found belongs to thc queen and not to you, and I will take-tar-; -that tbs proper people-aro informed of it -beforoyou can make away with it, and when that is taken away from you, if indeed tho whole thing is not a trick, we will see what will hap? pen to you. I tell you that I will tako this property, and I will pull this ?-old place you are so fond of down, stone- -by stoao. and throw it into the moat, and send tho plow over the site. 1 will sell the estate piecemeal and blot it out. I tell you I have been tricked. You encouraged the marriage yourself-you kuow you did-and you forbade that man the house." And ho paused for breath and io collect his words. Again the ?quins bowed, and his bow was a study in itself. You do not seo such bows nowadays. "Ouo minute, Mr. Cossey," bo said, very quietly, for it was one of his peculiarities to become abnormally quiet in circumstances of real emergency, "and then I think that wo may close this painful ir.'.crview. When first I knew you I did not like you. Afterward, through various circumstances, I modified my opinion, and set my dislike down to pre? judice. You are quito right in saying that I encouraged tho idea of a marriage between you and my daughter, and also that I forbade the hotiso to Col. Quaritch. I did so because, to bo honest, 1 saw no other way of avoiding the utter ruin of KV ?ftmi?y; but perhaps ] was wrong in so dding. l-6?pc'tb?tyou may never be placed in a position which wili-?ovec you *o such a decision. Also at the time, in? deed never till this moment, have i 'Quite realized how the matter really stood. I did not understand how strongly my daughter was attached in another direction, perhaps I was unwilling to understand it. Nor did 1 altogether understand the course of action by which it seems you obtained ? promise *c*f marriage from my daughter in the first in? stance. I was anxious for the marriage be? cause I believed you to be a better man than you are, and because I thought that it would j place my daughter and her descendants ina j inuch improved position, and that she would in time become attached to you. I forbade CoL Quaritch tho house because I thought that an alliance with him would be the most undesirable for everybody concerned. I find that in all this 1 was act? ing wrongly, and I frankly admit it. Per? haps as wo grow old we grow worldly also, and you and your agents pressed mo very hard, Mr. Cossey. Still 1 have always told \*ou that my daughter was a free agent, and must decide for herself, and therefore 1 owe j you noapologyon that score. So much, then, for the question of your eugageiseiit to Miss j do la Molle. It is done with. And now ai I regards thc threats you make. I shall try to \ meet them us occasion arises, and ii 1 cannot j do so it will be ?ny misfortune. Dut ono tiling j they show mc, though 1 am sorry t-< havo to j say it to any man in a h<?u>e which 1 can still j call my own-tiley show me that my first im- j pressions of you were the correct ones. You | are not a gent ionian. Mr. Cossej*, and I must j beg to decline the honor of your further ac- | quaintanee," and with another bow he opened ? th? vestibule d'.MU-, and stood holding tho handle in his hand. Edward Cossey looked round with a stare | of rage, and then> muttering ono mos: com j prchensive curse, i??talked from theroon>. and in another minute was driving fast ! through the ancient "gateway. Poor ir.au! Let us pity him, for he also certainly got his full-'.jue. Georg?'h-Ho wed bin* to the ontcr door, and ! then iso did a thing that nobody bad soon I him do before-ho burst out into a loud . rr.-, b'.-y-t nv* r< '~>v? frv?k v - j ""What aro you makins that noise aboutf" ' asked his master, sternry. "This is no laugh i -mg-matter." I "Him!" replied'George, pointing to thc re j treating dog cart; "be'srf.-going to pull down j tho castle and throw it into the moat and to ! send the plow over it, is'hc? Him-that var ! mint! Wbv, them cid :towers will be a j standing there wncn his beggarly bones is i dust-, and when his namo^ftin't :io moro a ! name; "and there'll'be one'of the old blood I sitting ::n them, too. I kuaw it, and I bev ! alias fcuawe? it Come, squire, though you : ?iusdu say how as I'm a fule, what did'I tell ! yer? Didn't I tell yer that Prowideuce j weren't a-going to let this placo go to anv laryers or bankers or thim sort. W: .-, of course I did. And now you see. Not but what it is all owing to the colonel. He was the man that found it, but then God Almighty taught him how to do iz. But he's a good un, bs is; and'a gentleman, not like him;" and be 'buce more pointed with unutterable scorn to the road down which Edward Cossey had vanished. "Now look here," said the squire, "don't you stand talking here all day about things you don't understand That's the way you waste time. You be off and look after this gold; it should not be left alone, you know. Ve will come dowu presently to Molehill, for '.I "suppose that is where it is. No, I can't stop to hear the story now, and besides, I want Col. Quaritch to zeil it to me." "All right, squire," raid George, touching his red night cap, "ill be off;" and be started. "George," hallooed bis master after him; but George did not stop. He had a trick of deafness when the squiro was calling and he wanted to go somewhere else. "Confound youl" roared the old gentleman; "why don't you stop when I call you?"' This time George brought his long, lank frame to a standstill. "Beg pardon, squire."' "Beg pardon, yes-you're always begging pardon. Look here, you had better bring your wife and have dinner in tho servants' hali today, and drink a glass of port." "Thank you, squire," said George, again^ touching his red nightcap. "And look here, George. Give me your hand, man. Here's a merry Christmas to you. We-'vo gone through some queerish time3 about this place-together, but now it almost looks as thtfign we were ?going to end our days in peace and plenty." "Same to you, squire, I'm sure-same to yorr," said George, pulling off his cap. "Yes, yes, we've had some bad years, wha*; with poor Mr. James ard that Quest and Cossey (he's the master var? na i nt of tho lot, be is), and the bad times, and the Moat farm and all; but, bless you, squire, now that there'll be somo ready monpy and no debts, why, if I don't mako out comebow so that yea all get a good living out of the place, I'm a Dutchman. Yes, it's been a bad time, and we're getting old, but there, that's how it is, the sky almost alius clears toward nightfall 'God Almighty has a mind to let one down easy, I suppose." l*If you would talk a little less'abo'ut God Almighty, and come'-to church a little more, it would be a good thia g, as I've told you be? fore," said the squire^ "but there, go along i with you." And tho honest fellow went. CHAPTER XLHL CHRISTMAS CHIME?. Tho squire turned and entered the' bduss. Ho generally was fairly noisy in his move? ments, but on this occasion he was excep? tionally so. Possibly he bad a reason for it. On reaching the vestibule he found Harold and Ida standing side by sido as though they were being drilled. It was impossible to re? sist the conclusion- that they had suddenly I assumed that attitude because it happened to be the first position into which they could conveniently fall. There was a moment's silence, and then Harold took ida's- hand and led her up to where ber father was standing. "Mr. De la Molle," be said simply, "once more I ask you for your daughter in mar? riage. I am quite aware of my many dis? qualifications, especially those of my age and the smallness of my means; but Ida and my? self hope and believe that, under all the cir? cumstances, you will no longer withhold your consent," and be paused. "Quaritch," answered tho squire, "I ba^c already in your presence toxi Mr. 'Cossey under what circumstances I was favorably inclined to his proposai, so I need not repeat all that. As regards your means, although they would have been quite insufficient tc avert tho ruin which threatened us, still yon have, I believe, a competence, and, owing tc your wonderful and most providential dis? covery, the fear of ruin seems to have passed away. It is owing to you that that discovery, which, by tho way, I want to hear all about, hhs been mado; had it not been for you it never would have been mado at ail, and therefore 1 certainly have no right lo say anything more about your means. As re? gards your age-well, after all, 4-1 is act thc limit of lifo; and if Ida does not object to marrying-'R man. of those years, 1 cannot ob? ject to her doing sc: With reference to your want of occupation, 1 think that il you marry Ida this place will, as times are, keep your hands pretty full, especially when you have aa obstinate . onkey like that foliar/ George to deal with-for I am getting too old and stupid to look after it myself ; and. besides, things are so topsy turvy ".hat 1 can't understand them. There is one thing more that I want to say, I forbade you the house. Well, you arc a generous minded mau, and it is human to err, and I think that perhaps you will understand my action and not beal* mc a grudge on that account. Also. 1 dare say that at the timo-and possibly at other ti Ts-I s?id things that I sbottld ho sorry for if I could remember what they were, which I can't; and if so, I apologize to you as a gentleman should when be 'Six'*: himself in tho wrong. And now 'I say, God bless you both, and 1 hope you will be happy in lifo together; and so cotpo here. Ida, my love, and give me a kiss. Yoi? hav-o been a good daughter all your 'ife, and so 'Quaritch maV by sure tbat yor. triE be a good wife toe*" /.?a di.! as she wa.; bid, and then she wont over to tier lover and took his baud, and he j kissed ber on the forehead, and so. ufier all ' their-troubles,'they finally ratified the cou-i tract. j And we, who have followed them thus far. ; and have perhaps been a little moved with j their struggles, hopes- and fears, will not j surely grudge to rc-eche, the squire's old fash- I toned prayer, "God bless them both." God bless ?them both. Long may they live, j and happily. Long may they live, and for very long may their children's children of the race, if j not vf the name,-of De la Molle, pass in and j out- through 't.'.'O o?d Norman gateway and j past the starry-Norman towers. Tho Bois- j soys, who built them, heve had ?theft' tabita- j tion for six generations. Tho Co la Moites, ? who wediied the heiress of the Boiss^ys. lived ! here for thirteen generations. Maj thc | Quari?ches, whose ancestor married Ida, j heiress of tho D? la Mo! 1rs, endure as long! j Surely it is permitted to us to lift a corner j cf the curtain of futurity and to see, in : spirit, Ida Quaritch, stately and beautiful, j a* we knew her, but of a happier counte- j nance, scated, on so:no Christmas Evo to j c >mc, in the drawing room of the castle and tilling to the children at her knees the won- j dcrful tale of how their father and old i George, on this very night, when the great), j gah- blew, long years ago, discovered the cuddy pde of gobi ho.-.rded. in that awful j sto:vhou'?o nrrriti the bones of S.xoaor Dan- : ish heroes,, and thus save! her to bo their: mother; Wo can surely see the wide and woad?, '-'ng eyes ah?! the G\ed faces as for ibo , tenth, time they listen to a story before ' which the joys of Crusoe w ill grow pale, and . hear thc eager appeals for confirmation rando j to thc military h oking gentleman, very griz- j sled now, but grown hotter looking with the ! ?advancing years, who is standing warming j himself before tuc flra^tho best and most be- j loved husband and father in the whole conn- ? t rv side. Perhaps there may be a vacant chair and . another tomb among the ranks of the dc- ' parted De la Molles; perhaps the ancient wails will no longer echo to tho sound of the i old squire's stentorian voicp. And what of j tbac? It i? our common ;ot.. But ^hc-n Le goe?> the country side -_\!~!r? e a man of whom they will not see tho like, again, for tho breed is dead or-dying; a man whoso very prejudices, inconsistencies aad occasional wrong headed violence will bo held, when he is no longer here, ic'bave beca endearing qualities. And for mari?ineas, for downright English, God fearing virtues, for love of queen, country, femily and homey: they may search m vain to lind Lhis equal among the thin blooded gentility* of "tho cos 'mopolitan Englislunen of the dawning Twen? tieth century. His faults were many, and at one timo he went .near to sacrificing bte. daughter to save his housa, but he would not have been tho man he was without them. . And so to him, too, farewell. Perhaps be-, will find himself better placed in the Valhalla, of bis forefathers, surrounded by thoso stout, old De la Molles whose memory be regarded with so much affection, than hero in tho Vic-, torian era, For, as has been said elsewhere, the old squire would undoubtedly have, looked better in a chain shirt and a battle ax than over he did in a frock coat, especially, with his retainer George armed to the-teeth behind him. .- i: They kissed, and it was done; and o?s from the church tower in the meadows broke* with clash and clangor the glad sound of the* Christmas bells. Gut it swept over pi tlc nod 'fallo^j'over'grcre and wood, It floated dowra, the valley of the Ell, it beat against Deo& Man's Mount (henceforth to-the vulgar min* more haunted than ever), and -echoed up the castle's Norman towers and down the oak. clad vestibule. Away over the common -weat thc glad message of Earth's Saviour, a-w?y high into tho air, startling the rooks upon their airy courses, os though tho iron notes of tho world's rejoicing would fain Goat to tba, throned feet of tho World's Everlasting King. t Peaco and good will, ay, asd happiness, to the children of mea whila their span is, and hope for the beyond, and Heaven's blessing on holy love and all good things that are. This was what thoso liquid notes seemed to say to the most happy pair who stood -jbazi? in band in the vestibule and thought of all they had escaped and ail that they had won. '** Well, Quaritch, if you and Ida have quito done staring at each other, which isn't very interesting to a '.bird porty, perhaps you wip. not mind telling us how you happened on old Sir James de la Mollea hoard." Thus adjured, Harold began his thrilling story, telling tue whole history of tho night in detail, and if his hearers had expected to bo astonished, certainly "their, expectations were considerably more that fulfilled. -'Upon my word," said the squire when ba had done, "I think I am beginning togrp-f superstitious in my old age. Hang me it I don't bel ?ere -St -?was tb*=> finger'of Pr**" ?den?o itself that pointed out thoso letters you. Any way, Pm off to see the spoiL Ran and g?t your hat, Ida, my dear, and we will aft 'go ""together." And they went afcd looked at the chest brimful of red gold, yes, and passed down, And tliey iceni and looked af the chest orim? fut of red gold. all three of them, into those chill presences in the bowels of tho mount, end, coming thence awed and silent, sealed up- the place forever. _ CONCLUSION GOOD-fiY. 'On the following morning such inhabitants of Boisingham as happened to be about wert much interested at seeing an ordinary farnr tumbrel coming down, the main strebt, and being driven, er rather led, by no less a per? son than George tiiaself, while behind it walked thc well known form of the old squire, arm in arm with Col. Qaaritch, They were still more interested, however, when the tumbrel drew up-at the door of the bank-not Cossey's, but tbceppositiou bani: -where, although it was Boxing Day, the manager and the clerk were vc-aiting, appa? rently, for its coming. But their interest culminated *i*feen they perceived that the cart only contained a few flour sacks, and yet that each of these sacks seemed to require three or four mes to 4ift it with any comfort. , Thus was the gold safely housed. U*toa being weighed its value was found to bs about ?5o,000 of modern money. As, how? ever, somo of the coins wero exceedingly rare, and of great value to museums and col? lectors, this value was considerably increased, and the treasure was ultimately sold for ?55,254. Only Ida kept back enough of the choicest coins to make a gold waistband or girdle and a necklace for herself, destined, no doubt, in future days to fenn the most cher? ished heirloom of the Quaritch family. On that same evening the squire and Har-, old went to London and o*>ened up commu? nications with the soliciter to thc'treasury.. rortunately they weVo able to refer to the will* of Sir Edward do la Molle, the second. baronet, in which he specially devised to his cousin, Geoffrey Doffericigh* and his heirs forever, riot only his c t-i-tcs, but his land**, '. -teether with the treasure bid thereon or elsewhere by my late murdered father, Sir, James do la Molle.-1 Abo :h y produced the writing which Ida had found in tho old Bible, and tho parchment discovered by Georgeamong the coin. These throe docu? ments formed a chain of evidence which even officials interested Cor tho treasury could nt?t refuge to admit, and in tho upshot the "crown, renounced its claims, and the property hi. tho gold passed to the squire, subject to the payment of the same suc-esssen duty w??ch he would have l>ee:i called u^jon to meet had he inherited a Kkc sum from a cousin at the pre?-'.it time And so it canse to pass that when thc mort? gage money was due it was paid to the last farthing, capital and interest, and Edward Cossey lost his hold upon f lenham' forever. As for Edward Cossey himself, we may. say ono more word al?out him. In due course, of time he got over his violent passion for Ida sufficiently to uilow him to make a briV-. ILaut marriage with the only daughter of au impecunious ix-cr. She keeps her name and title and bo plays the pan of the necessary husband. Anyhow, my reader, if it is your glorious fortune to frequent the gilded sa? loons of tho groat, you may meit Lady Honoria Tal l bit and Mr. Cossey. If you do meet him, however, it may be as well to^ avoid bini, for thc events of his life h,axe ?f?.^ been of a nature to improve his temper. .TbiS-".''' much then of Edward .G. "isacy. If after leaving rh?; gilded' saloons afore? said, you should happen to wander down piccadilly cr the Strand, a's the ease may be, * you may .ncc*, another character in this bis- ' tory. You may foo a sweet, palo face, still ' stamped with a child like roundness and sim- : plicity, but half hidden in the coarse hood of:* tho nun. You may see ber, audit you ears . ro follow you may find what is tLeWork wherein she ?-celes her peace. It would shock von; you would fly from it in horror^ but in her work of mercy and loving kindness-and she docs it unflinchingly-and .'.thong ber . follow nuns there is no ono more beloned*' than Sister .Agnes. So good-by to.bar also. . Harold Quaritch and Ida w*?-*f married in, the spring, and the village ^ '"Mren strewed ' the churchyard path-the same path where ? in anguish of soul they had met and ported * on that dreary winter's night-with prim? roses and violets. And there at the old church dorr, when tho wreath is on ber brow and the veil about; her face, let us"bid farewell to Ida ajad Lcr^ husband. Harold Quaritch: " *.* TSZ iXD _. -