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8UMTSR WATCHMAN, K?tabli?hed April, 1850. Consolidated Anse. 3,1881.1 THE TKUK SOUTHRON, Established Jnae, 189 f^e Malt jjm?i! w? ?>$?\m Published ovory Wednesday, BT N. Gk OSTEEN, SU .M TER, S. C. TERMS I Two Dollars per annum?in advance. 4.D V ?STISiM t ?T8 . On* Square, first insertion.............?....$I 00 Ivery subsequent insertion....;.......- 50 C Contracts for three mon the, or longer will be made at reduced rates/ v?. AU commente ?Joost which subserve private interests ?ilbec?axged tac as advertisements. Obituaries and tributes of respect will be oharged for. mbmms& ?amm bask, OF SUMTES. STATER CITY AND COUNTY 1>5p0si TORY, SUMTER,~S. C. Paid op Capital ^ . . . . $75,000 00 Surplus Fond. 7,500 00 Transacts a General Banking Bosiness. Careful attention given to collections. r SAVINGS DEPAP ^?BKT. Deposits of $1 and upwardt ^eived. -In? terett allowed at the rate of 4 per cent, per aasnm. Payable quarterly, on first days of J January, April, July and October. R. 31. WALLACE, Vice President. Ii. S. Ca sso?, Aog. 7 Cashier._ . HS Ml (I MM. S?MTBR, S 0. CITY AND COUNTY DEPOSITORY. Transacts a general Banking bosiness. Also b#s A Savings Bank Department Deposits of $1.00 and upwards received. Interest calculated at the rate of 4 per cent, pec annum, payable quarterly. W. F. B. HAYNSWORTH, A. Whttk, Js-, President. Cash :er. J. F. W. DeLORME, -dealer nr. Agent? Mi? & M nur sum's, perfumeby and all kinds of Druggist's Sundries u8?ally k kpt in & first-class drug - stork. . Tobacco, Snuff aa? Segars, Paints, (His, Varnishes, ??ASS, P?1TT/ &a -AMD? a DYE STUFFS. f o J Pbynetaa's Prescriptions ear?fofly eoasponnded, and orders answered wHn care tad dispateh. the public will find my stock of Medicines complete, warranted \ jenn ies* and of th? best q usl Uy. Call and see for TiLBOTT & $m} ENGINES AND BOfiSS, GrRIST MtV-Tfil saw mulls are acknowledged be the best ever sold in this State. When you buy one of them you are satisfied that youlave made no mistake, v. Write for our pri?es. Cotton Gins Presses at bot to can save you mo v. c. b General Agent, Home Office Richmond, Va? Jnae 25. kbta. S, 0. id Factory Gold and Silver Watches, FINE DIAMONDS. Clocks, Jewelry, Spectacles, HBRIDSN BRITANIA SILVERWARE, ko. REPAIRING A SPECIALTY. ^Feb 1_ MACHINE SHOP. All kinds of MACHINE 'YORK REPAIRS can be had "? ?**-? at short notice, and in the very b? ' work, at the shop re cently opet undersigned on Liberty Street, near the C. >. <fc N. Depot. Boilers Patched, and Mill and Grin Work a Specialty. Prompt attention given to work in the eoaotry, and first class workmen sent to at tend to same. Call at the shop or address through Su rater Poet office Aag 13 EDGAR SKINNER. REAL ESTATE A6ENCY, r[B UNDERSIGNED has established a Real Estate and Collection Agency in Sumter and desires property holders having property for sale or rent to list same with vim. Tenants secured and rents collected pJ^fely. Best references given. Office on JWaWfceet fit T. B. Con is' store. Apr. 30* W. H. COMMANDER. The Prospects IN THE - NEAR FUTURE. To the Citizens of Sumter and Sumter County. THE UNDERSIGNED will, on February 1,1891, open a stock of GENERAL MERCHANDISE to please all classes of buyers, and will sell same at the lowest prices at which they can possibly be soli Every effort will be made to please, and a share of patronage is solicited. Store in the REID BLOCK, corner of Main and Republican Streets. L. GLICK. Jan 7?4t CATARRHS Ely's Cream Bal m Al lays Infiammaiicr . Heals the Sores. Restores the Senses of Taste, Smell and Hearing. A particle is applied into each nostril ab d Is agreeable. Price 50c. at Drnagistsj?r by MxL ELY B30THERS,,56 Warren SL^New York. Regulate The Bowels* Costireness deranges tbe whole sys tem mad beget* diseases, saeb as Sick Headache, Dyspepsia, Fevers, Sidney Diseases, Bilious Colic, Malaria, etc Tntt's Pills produce regular bablt off body and good digestion, without which, no one ean enjoy good health* Sold Everywhere, i For Infants and Children. Castoria promotes Digestion, and overcomes flatulency, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrhoea, and Feverishness. Thus the child is rendered healthy and its sleep natural, Castoria contains no Morphine or other narcotic property. "Castoria is so well adapted to children that I recommend it as superior to any prescription known to n>? " H. A. Archer, M. D., Ill South Oxford St, Brooklyn, N. T. "I use Castoria in my practice, and fled it specially adapted to affections of children." Alex. Robertson, M. D., 1057 2d Ave., New York. "From persona] knowledge and observation I can say that Castoria is an excellent medicine for children, acting as a laxative and relieving the pent up bowels and general system very much. Many mothers have told me of its ex e^terx effect upon their children/'' Da. G. C. Osgood, Lowell, Mass. Tax Ckkta?b Coupant, 77 Murray Street, N. Y. f MOO.CO a Te*. i? brine; mr.rV br John R Goo<hrm,Trwy.N.Y.^>t work 1vt u*?. Kr?der, yon anr not make as much, but wa ran >y?u<ju5ckly how to rant from t ? to Sie? oar ?t tbe ?tari, and mora aa r*u ?n- Soth wir?, all n jrr*. In aar |?rt of Africa, jtxi can coniiuenee at bottie. rlr. if all roar tiine,?r ipare momenta onlv to the work. All knew. Great jmj SI"KKf<.r *??y worker. We start too. furnishing ?verrtbinp. FA Sit-Y. S1*EKI)ILY learned. 1AKTJCLLARS FREE. Addreaj at ence, blU&O.N u CO., rOKTLAM?, UilSZ By J?LIAir HAWTHOEIli Ccryiight, 1680, by Avcencan Press Association.] CHAPTER IL , HOW LOVELY AND UNFORTUNATE SHE WAS. "Music is a sacred thing, my child," he would often say to her. What is more worthy the contempla tion of a humane mind than the specta cle of a pretty young woman? It is the least selfish of all pleasures. By learn ing we seek to elevate ourselves above our fellows; by philosophy, to console ourselves for the past and to fortify our selves for the future; by religion (as it is commonly practiced), to make ourselves respectable in this world and comfort able in the world to come. But he who stands rapt in the fascination of a girl's beauty enjoys the possession by another of what he can never have himself, ad mits his inferiority and generously ex ults in the existence of goodness for its own sake. The sole drawback is the risk he runs of falling in love?that is, of wishing to restrict to himself ablessing designed to rejoice mankind at large. It might seem a pity that such a girl as Beatrix Randolph should be so situ ated as not to have it in her power to confer upon every one the unselfish gratification whereof we speak. But to be rare and difficult of access are among the conditions of mortal loveliness. In no other way, perhaps,could the heavenly aroma be preserved; and were we to be come callous to beauty, as we do to pain, fife would have nothing left to promise us. On the other hand, dullness is negative, delight positive, and a single day of glorious sunshine compensates for a whole blank week of lifeless land scape and leaden sky. But Beatrix, though delightful to look upon, was not beauty in the abstract: she was first of all a distinct and con crete human person. It is fitting, there fore, to considernot so much the loss the world sustained by her seclusion, as its effect upon herself. Certainly she was not of a temperament naturally inclined to solitude. She was quick to feel emotions of all kinds, and apt and simple in the expression of them. Her propor tions, both of the soul and the body, were symmetrical and active; as she moved easily and sweetly, so was she sweetly and easily moved. Ber life, in spite of its circumscribed conditions, showed an instinctive love of largeness and variety, and herein she was helped by a generous and lively imagina tion. She could not read a story or watch the sun rise without engender ing in her mind a thousand fresh ideas of the possibilities of existence. And her body was in such fine harmony with her spirit that you could see a stirring thought turn to roses in her cheeks, or conjure diamonds to her lovely eyes. When she came forth in the morning from her maiden chamber, having put on, let us say, a fresh, white gown, just crisp enough to whisper as she stepped, and a pink or a blue ribbon (as fancy might dictate) at her throat and on her hair, and her figure elastic and alert with the wholesome vigor of nineteen years, and a mouth that laughed fragrance and music, and large brown eyes, which besides being as beautiful as possible in themselves were rendered yet more so by being a few shades dark er than her rippled hair and * * * and hands that were white wonders of warm flexibility and taperiixg softness; when this exquisite young American girl, in short?type of the most charm ing and most intelligent womanhood in the world?came dawning like Aurora out of the room in which she had been dreaming visions only less lovely than herself, it did seem as if the Golden Age were now about to beging and as if noth ing false or impure were henceforward possible. She explained, without utter ing a word, why the grass in spring is so deliciously green, the sky of so tender a blue, why birds sing and water is transparent, why violets have perfume, and the sun warmth. She was the spoken secret of the universe?the interpretation of its fairest elements. By what mishap, then, was such a creature confined (as she was) to a few square miles of village land in the center of the state of New York? j Was such a pearl created only to be cast before cattle, and the village grocer's son, and the hollow chested young Unitarian minister, and the innkeeper's daughters? The world could not afford i it, and yet there she was, and just at the j time this story begins there seemed to be j rather less probability than nsnal of ber ever getting anywhere else. She lived with her father in a roomy I broad beamed, brown old honse, en vironed by elm trees taller, but less an tique, than itself. It was an American | Eighteenth century house. Some hero j of the Revolution had passed a night in it. It stood on the side of a low, gradual hill, and was four miles away from the nearest railway station. Altogether the region was sufficiently remote, though New York city was hardly more than three hours distant by rail. The mail arrived twice a day, and Mr. Alexander Randolph, the owner of the house and estate, received yesterday's World every forenoon, and read it during the hour preceding dinner, which always took place at 2 o'clock. It was an eminently conservative household; at all events its master wa3 a conservative and a democrat, as his fathers had been before him. These forefathers were of Virginian descent, and two generations ago had owned large plantations in the south. But the young Randolph of that epoch had fallen in love with a northern lady, and ended by marrying her and settling down on this estate, which was his bride's dowry. He was originally quite wealthy, but lost money by speculations during the war. With intent to compel a better fortune he soon after ran for an ofiice, but was defeated, as a foregone conclu sion, by a crushing majority. To crowu all he lost his wife, to whom he was de- j votedly attached. She died of typhoid j fever in 1868. He was left with two j children, a boy of 10 and a girl of 6. j Mr. Randolph, thongh of a haughty and j headstrong character, was not what is : called thorough. He was tall and of j slender build, with high shoulders, a gray mustache and imperial, and thick, wary hair, growing rather long. His eyebrows were bushy and overhanging, and gave to bis eyes a fiercer expression than might otherwise have belonged to them; he had a habit of twisting them between his thumb and finger when in thought, which looked ominous to stran gers, but really amounted to nothing. His fingers were verv long, and so were his arguments and discussions; almost the only short thing about him, in fact, being his temper. His general aspect \was that of a retired southern brigadier whose slaves had been unrighteously made contraband. His expression was, ordinarily, profoundly serious, and he smiled rarely; but it was not difficult to make him break into a shrill, giggling laugh, which absurdly marred the severe contour of his visage and betrayed the underlying weakness. He was fond of phrases, and had a fancy -. for calling himself "the most in dulgent of fathers," but whenever his children, transgressed the moral law of their father's good humor or indolence? and this Vas,.not seldom the case with Ed, who was ae restless and independent as a hawk?he fell upon them with sweeping broadsides of rebuke, culmina ting, if they answered him back, in vio lent assertions of their total depravity. Ed was sent to school, but the stndy of books had no part in his scheme of exist ence. In the boy's seventeenth year Hamilton Jocelyn, a friend of the fam ily, being on a visit of a few days to the Randolphs, was tickled by Ed*s bearing and the story of bis exploits, and offered to take him back with him to New York city for a month or so, to give him in struction in the laws and amenities of polite society. He went off accordingly, and the month had prolonged itself to six before he came back. His father thought that he had been improved by his sojourn there. He had brought back with him certainly a great deal of entertaining talk, and gave Beatrix endless accounts of the great city, its streets, its houses, its horses, its theatres; above all, of its operas and its concerts.*1 Both she and Ed had always been passionately devot ed to music. They had understood it, by the light of nature, as it were, from a very early age, and had constantly practiced ever since. Ed's voice was not of much use, bu t he was an admirable performer on the violin. Beatrix, cn the other hand, was above all things a singer, and her voice developed into a soprano of remarkable range and power. Her studies were not confined to church music She knew by heart all the great operas and oratorios, and in pursuance of the marked dramatic ability which she possessed she had, with Eids assist ance, acted out scenes from many of the former (so far as two performers might) on the stage of the back drawing room, One day Hamilton Jocelyn, who had heard all the famous singers of the world in his time, attended one of these privat? entertainments. Contrary to expecta tion he turned out to be the most eulo gistic auditor that Beatrix had ever had, and he wound up his praises by declar ing that she most be provided with a master to bring her voice out The most indulgent of fathers was gratified by this tribute of admiration from such a source to his favorite child, and a week or so afterward the master was sent for. This was an elderly Englishman of respectable antecedents, who, twenty years before, had begun his musical career with what was considered the finest tenor voice of the age, and whose knowledge of the principles of music was as profound as his proficiency was remarkable. But before he had been a year on the operatic stage the theatre in which he was singing caught fire, and he was burned about the throat in such a way as forever to destroy the voice which would have made him rich and famous enough to satisfy ambition itself. Professor Dorimar, as he afterward came to be called, had some small private means which rendered him in a humble way independent, and with a philo sophical serenity which rarely char acterizes the musical temperament he settled quietly down to be a writer on the art and science of whose highest triumphs he could never more hope to partake. For the last eight years he had lived in New York, but he was known to very few. He sat with his piano and his manuscripts, and his visions of divine harmonies, in a retired little room a few blocks west of Wash ington square, and seldom went forth save to listen for half an hour to one or other of the very few singers who in his judgment were great enough to sing. He never was known to have un dertaken tho personal instruction of pupils, though he might undoubtedly have derived a large income from so doing. But he was of opinion that the right to use the voice in music is given to but two or three in an age, and the charce that the training of one so gifted should fall to him was too remote to be considered. To the myriad chances of failure he preferred his comparative pov erty and his peace of mind. What arguments Jocelyn employed to woo him from his reserve cannot be known. But Mr. Randolph received a note from the professor, mentioning the day and hour of his arrival, and request ing Mr. Randolph to meet him and drive him up from the railway station alone. This was done, and on the way the pro fessor stipulated that ho should be enabled to hear Miss Randolph's voice before she was aw;rre of his presence. "There is a train back to the city this evening, sir," he remarked, "and, if I , should conclude to take it, it would be well to have spared the young lady the | annoyance of an interview." The mat- i ter was readily managed. Beatrix sang with the unembarrassed freedom of supposed solitude, and the Profes sor listened. When the young lady had finished her selection, whatever it was, she rose from the piano and passed out through tbe open window of the room to the veranda. Here she was surprised by the appearance of a meager and pallid personage, of gentlemanly bearing and aspect, with a broad scar on the right side of his face and throat, and many thoughtful lines and wrinkles on his brow and around his eyes, who advanced toward her with a bow and took her hand. As she looked at him she fancied then* were tears in his eyes. "Miss Randolph," he said, iu a low and very pleasant voice, '*I am to have the honor of being your instructor; my name is Dorimar." He said no more at that time, but raised her soft fingers to his lips, and with another bow dis appeared. He did not take the evening train back to the city, but on the contrary took up his abode i:i the Randolphs' house, and lxnng. in addition to his musical attainments, ;i man of cultivation, and of a singular naive charm of character, he was nearly as much of an acquisition to Mr. Rrm- j dolph as to his daughter, and they all j became very good friends. As to his teaching, it was a matter between his I pupil and himself, and was not often re- ! ferred to outside. It seemed to afford j him especial pleasure to think that Bea- j trix was singing for music's sake, and j without any purpose of publishing or j profiting by her acquirements. "Music ! is a sacred thing, my child," he would : often say to her, "and like all sacred things it is shamefully and almost uni versally desecrated. It is not a mere question of voice and car, but of purity and loftiness of fouL Great music never was greatly sung by a charlatan, or a hbertine, or a fortune hunter. I, for my part, thank God that you are what you are, and that you will never be obliged to weigh your music against gold. The world may listen to you if ?'.. can, but you shall be spared the insult of receiv ing for it what it dares to call recom penser' Beatrice acquiesced in all this wisdom, but somewhere in her secret soul she may have cherished the germ of an am bition to meet great multitudes of her fellow creatures, to test herself upon them, perhaps to delight and inspire them, if there were power in her so to do. Three years passed, and then Ed went to Europe. There was some pre text about his attending lectures at a university of mining engineering in Saxony, but it was a tolerably trans parent pretext That he should come back at the end of two or three years somewhat toned down was the best Mr. Randolph hoped. As to the question of funds, after a good deal of meditation Mr. Randolph came to the following rather eccentric determination: Ed was to be allowed to draw on the paternal resources for whatever sums of money he from time to time might require. "You may draw little or you may draw much, my son," the old gentleman said, "and, be it much or little, all your drafts wlli be duly honored. I shall not restrict you nor advise you, but I shall depend upon your own sense of honor and decency, as a Randolph and a gentleman, not to abuse my confidence in you." This speech seemed to the utterer of it very noble and impressive, and also very sagacious and worldly wise. For if to put a young fellow upon his honor will not make Mm reasonably virtuous and economical what will? Ed certainly showed himself pleased with the ar rangement, if not so much impressed by the phrases in which it was announced to him. He was an enterprising and able youth, and probably expected to make a fortune of his own rather than spend his father's. The next thing that occurred in this eventful year was an offer of marriage, emanating from no less distinguished a personage than Hamilton Jocelyn him self. Beatrix thought it was exceed ingly funny he should do such a thing, and not altogether comfortable; but as it was instinctive with her to consider other people's feelings almost as much as her own, and sometimes more, she suppressed her emotions and expressed her acknowledgments, adding that she had no idea of marrying anybody. When Jocelyn found that her resolve was not to be shaken he very gracefully said that to have known and loved her was a privilege and a revelation for which he should never cease to be indebted to her. He said tL.t he had perhaps presumed too much in hoping that she could ever care for a grizzled old fellow like him self, but that his sentiments would never change, and that if, at any future time, circumstances should lead her to reconsider her present views, she would find him eager and grateful to throw himself at her feet. He concluded by requesting that she would forbear to mention the episode to any one, even to her father, lest the latter should be grieved to discover that she could not bring herself to consent to an alliance with his oldest friend. Beatrix replied that she had no wish to speak of what had occurred, and that she hoped they both would forget it as soon as possible. Hereupon Jocelyn took bis leave, and went back to New York, probably re gretting the issue of the adventure al most as much as he professed to do, al though perhaps for reasons other than those he thought it expedient to allege. The third event was the death of poor Professor Dorimar, which occurred sud denly and filled Beatrix with grief, not withstanding that it appeared in one sense the most natural thing that could have happened to the good and mag nanimous old man. He had had a habit of looking upward as he talked, and Beatrix had thought that he seemed much of the time communing with a botter world, and perhaps derived from some angelic source his grand ideas about music and its mission to mankind. It was the first death the girl had ever wit nessed, and it invested the three years of the association together of the pupil and her master with a sort of retrospec tive- sanctity. They h ad been altogether the happiest years of Beatrix's life. The professor had taught her something else besides how to sing. Less by words than by some tacit, s}*mpathetic influence he had led her to perceive and meditate upon the nobler and loftier aspects and capacities of human nature. As to his share in her vocal culture and her own proficiency he never had made any defi nite pronouncement: but on the morning before his death bo requested her to sing for him the air from Handel's oratorio of "The Messiah"?"I know that my Redeemer Kveth." When she had finished he said: "My child, j-ou have enabled me to thank God that my I voice was destroyed, and that my life | has been for so many years a lonely dis appointment. I have had triumphs and blessings that most men do not even | know how to desire. A mighty scepter j is in your hand," he went on, turning his grave and gentle eyes upon her. "T have helped to show yon how to wield it. Power is very sweet, but it needs j almost an angel net to use it harmfully. ! I don't know what life may be before you, my denr: but whatever it may be I trust that when you come f o the end of it you will find as little cause to regret having met me as I have much cause to rejoice that I have known you." Beatrix hardly knew how to understand this at the time, but afterward the words fre quently revisited her memory, and may have had some influence over her at crit ical moments of h^r career. In autumn the old Randolph home stead looked as if it were showered with gold. The great elm trees, transmuted by the touch of this Midas of the seasons, stood in a yellow glory of myriad leaves, which every breath of the cool west breeze scattered profusely eastward, where, with the still unchanged grass, they formed a spangled carpet of green and gold. The apples thronged the crooked boughs of the orchard, someTike glowing rubies, others like the famous fruit of the Hespcrides, thongh there was no guardian dragon to give them a fictitious value. The broad roof of the house itself was littered with innu merable little golden scales, of work manship far beyond' the skill of any human goldsmith, yet of absolutely no market value. What is the significance of this yearly phantas magoria of illimitable riches, worthless because illimitable? Is it a satire or a consolation? Does it mock the poor man's indigence or cause him to hope again for competence? It comes as the guerdon of Nature, after her mighty task is done; but when she has composed herself to her wintry sleep it is trodden into the earth and forgotten, and the new year begins his labors with new sap aad naked buds. It is only the human world that has to bear the burden of in heritance; a:id perhaps we shall never enjoy true wealth till we have learned the lesson of the trees. Poor Mr. Randolph certainly had lit tle else beside autumn leaves wherewith to satisfy his creditors, and the winter of his discontent was close upon him. There is a philosophy for the poor and a philosophy for the wealthy, but the philosophy that can console the debtor has yet to be discovered. Born and brought up in the custom of sufficient resources, he had never con templated the possibility of want. There had seemed to be something noble and high minded in meeting without ques tion all demands upon him, but when the supply actually ran short things wore a different aspect. Had he spent his whole fortune simply in paying his son's drafts he would at least have had the comfort of putting the "whole bur den of the responsibility on bis son's shoulders. But unfortunately the larger part of the loss was due to private rash ness of his own. When he found that Ed's rapacity was getting serious the devoted gentleman betook himself to Wall street and speculated there. The brokers treated him as Richard III pro posed to treat his wife?they had him, but they did not keep him long. His speculations after he returned home were probably more edifying than those he indulged in on the street The revolting suspicion that he had been a fool began to germinate in Mr. Randolph's mind. This suspicion, which is the salvation of some men. is the de struction of others. The integrity of Mr. Randolph's moral discrimination began to deteriorate from that hour. Having enacted all his life the part of his own golden calf in the wilderness, his overthrow left him destitute of any criterion of conduct. He talked violent ly and volubly about his wrongs, and discussed various schemes, more or less impracticable and improper, of evading his liabilities. Beatrix was naturally the chief sufferer from this ungainly development of her father's character, and she was also obliged to bear the brunt of most of the concrete unpleasantness of their situation. She had to talk to the creditors, to extenuate her father's side of the case, to hold ont fair hopes and to smooth over disap pointments, and when she had wearied herself in parleying with the enemy she had before her the yet harder task of pacifying and encouraging bcr father, who had listened to the dialogue from the head of the stairs, and fell upon her with a petty avalanche of complaints, luccticss, suggestions, scoldings and }uerulousness. Beatrix loved her father with all her heart, but she was of a pen etrating and well balanced mind, and >ften had difficulty in not feeling ishamed of him. Insensibly she began to treat him as a fractions and super sensitive child, who must at all costs be humored and soothed, and when she felt her own strength and patience almost overtaxed she would only say to herself, "No wonder poor father has to give up when I find it so hard." But her troubles did not end with her father. There was a certain Mr. Starcher, the grocer's son; the grocer divided with the innkeeper the highest social consid eration of the village. He was a young gentleman of highly respectable charac ter and education. After leaving school he had studied for a year at a business college in New York; ho was a member of the Young Men's CSrristian associa tion, and a person of gravity and re ligious convictions. A week or two after Mr. Randolph's misfortune became known he put on a suit of black clothes, relieved by a faded blue necktie, and called formally on Miss Randolph. Af ter the first courtesies had been ex changed he said that he desired in the first place to put the minds of Miss Ran dolph and her good father at ease re garding the little account between his firm and them. The money was not needed, and so far as he was concerned might remain nnpaid indefinitely. "And I should like to say, too," he continued, with a manner of almost melancholy seriousness and a husky voice, "that groceries?or anything else I ?ould get you?-might be yours, permanently, if I could?you would?that you might con sent to unite your life to mine. My fa ther contemplates retiring from active business. I have never before spoken to you of this, but in seasons of trouble? we say things?and I have often thought, when we were singing in the choir to gether?that?we might be very happy ?that it was our destiny. I have been in New York and seen the great world, but j-ou are the wife I would choose from among them all." He had a smooth, round, fresh colored, innocent face, that seemed made for dimpling smiles, but which never indulged in them. Beatrix felt a sensation of absurd alarm, like the princessin the fairy tale, under a spell of enchantment to mismate herself in the most grotesque man ner conceivable. Mr. Starcher was so much in earnest, and sa ludicrously sure, apparently, that the success of Iiis suit was among the eternal certainties, that a vision of a long wedded life with him, amid an atmosphere of meal tubs, salt cod and pickles, interspersed with psalm tunes ?and solemn walks to and from church on Sundays?this desperate panorama of inanimate existence rose up before her in such vivid imaginative : vraisemblance that she was impelled to protest against it with more than ade quate vehemence. She gasped for breath, rose from her chair and said: "Mr. Starcher, it is terrible; I would rather die!" Then, perceiving, com passionately, that he would feel ; cruelly wounded as soon as his astonished senses- enabled him to comprehend the significance of her ; words, she added, "It would be wicked for me ever to think of being married; you must see that I"? Here she paused, partly from emotion, and partly because she was unable at the moment to be think herself of any conclusive argu ment in support of her assertion that, for her, marriage would ever be a crime. One certainly would not have drawn that inference from the superficial indi cations. A silence ensued, prickly with cpiritual discomfort. Mr. Starcher was the first to find his tongue, and ho car- : ried off the honors of the encounter by obsevviiig with tearful sentleuess that he should claim the privilege, just the same, of not presenting the little ac count for settlement. This magnanim ity was none the less genuine because the materials for it were slender, and | Beatrix long -forward found comfort in recalling it to mind. But there was yet another adversary for her to engage, and he was in some respects more formidable than Mr. Starcher, because his position and edu cation rendered his pretensions less mon strous?nay, there even seemed to be a sneaking disposition on Mr. Randolph's part to accord him at least a negative support. Mr. Vinal, the Unitarian cler gyman,, was in fact, from an nnworldy point of view, a tolerably inoffensive match. He was studious, decorous and j endowed with grave and unobtrusive manners. He was not handsome, but there was a certain masculine concentra tion in his close sec gray eyes and long narrow chin which wets not in itself un pleasing. His voice, if somewhat harsh, was resonant and assured: and, coming as it did from a chest apparently so incapa cious, produced a sensation of agreeable surprise, it would have been unreach able not to respect the man, und churl ish not to feel amiably disposed toward him; but for Beatrix it was impossible to love him. He lived in a little white wooder house with green blinds, close to the white, green blinded church. He possessed an imposing library, in which was not a single book that Beatrix could have brought herself to read, and the main, object of his endeavors was, appar ently., to make all the rest; of the world think and live like himself. Moreover, though he approved of music, he neither knew nor cared anything about it. Mr. Vinal began his operations by a private interview with Mr. Randolph, from which he came forth with a coun tenance whose serenity made Beatrix's? heart sink. The dialogue which followed was of extreme interest to both of them. "Have you made any plans regarding your immediate future?" the minister began, in an unembarrassed and busi nesslike tone. "We cannot doubt, you know, that providence, in bringing this affliction upon you, has had some wise and merciful end in view. You have talents; perhaps but for this you might have kept them folded in the napkin. Adversity forces us out of our natural idleness, and stimulates us to use what means we have to win our own way in the world. Have you thought of any thing to dof' Beatrix's spirits rose again; he was not thinking of marrying her after alL 'Tve been thinking I might give lessons on the piano," she said. She happened to be seated at that instrument, and as she spoke die let her white fingers drift down the keyboard from bass to treble, from depression to hope, from gloom to light, winding up with a sort of interrogative accent, as much as to say, "Why shouldn't I be good for something?" "Very right," said Mr. Vinal; "I have nothing to object to in that; indeed I had intended to propose it. You could also, unless the instructions of the late Professor Dorimar were wholly value less" "What?" interrupted Beatrix, in a voice which, supported as it was by a chord sharply struck, made the minister start in his chair. After a moment's pause she said, her eyes still bright with indignation: "Profeyc^Porirnar, who is now in heaven, taught me more and better things than you have ever dreamed of! He showed me that I have a soul!" "Surely I have done as much as thatr faltered Mr. Vinal, who was confused | by this sudden outburst. "No, for you know nothing about it," said Beatrix loftily. "You have only been told that it is so?you have read it in books?and you repeat what you have been told, and no doubt you thr*"- you believe it. But you can never k . /it!" continued the young lady, with a fiery emphasis on the verb, "because you can't understand music." "I intended nothing against Professor Dorimar," protested the minister, who i was amazed and dauntt^l by the passion and pride that he had unawares caused to kindle in her lovely face. It was perhaps the first time h? had occasion to observe that the spirit of the old Vir ginia Randolphs?the descendants of the cavaliers?was as haughty and untamed in this tender hearted American girl as in that terrible ancestor of hers who rode with Prince Rupert Beatrix made no reply, but sat with her head erect and flushed cheeks, and one hand still on the piano keys, as if ready once more to smite terror into the j soul of her visitor should he again step amiss. A piano, it seems, can be used . as a weapon of defense even against one '\ who has no comprehension of music. "What I was about to remark was that you might teach singing as well as playing." said Mr. Vinal circumspectly. "There are, I believe, a number of per sons in the village who would be willing under the circumstances to place their children under your instruction." "It is no favor to be taught music un der any circumstances," returned Bea trix, kindling again. "Whoever thinks otherwise does not deserve to learn! And there are other places in the world besides this miserable little village, and people who are wiser aL-d better!" "You surely do not mean to intimate that you contemplate going anywhere else?" demanded the minister in some consternation. The fact was that such an idea had never until that moment definitely pre sented itself to Miss Randolph's mind; but in her present aroused condition she could see and entertain many possibili ties that would have seemed audacious or impracticable an hour before. "Why not?" she said; "I was not born to pass my life here!" "But I?it has never been my inten tion to leave here!" exclaimed Mr. Vinal '. auxionsly. "What satisfies you does not satisfy me," answered the young lady. "But your father, in a conversation 1 have just had with him, lias informed sac that he will not oppose my address ing you with a view to marriage," said the clergyman, in a solemn tone. "He would not have done so if he had been himself," replied Beatrix warmly. "He is broken down by trouble and sor row, else you would not have ventured 1 fco ask him! But I will tell you, since j \ he could not, that I am not a piece of land or furniture to be sold for the sat isfaction of creditors! I will not be a burden upon my father or any one: but I have a right to myself ? to my own self! Do you think I : am so much afraid of being poor, or of starving, that I would marry ; anybody to escape it? I do not love you! I do not love you, Mr. Vinal. and so I will never marry you. I will have love and music or no,hing! You do not ! know me, sir; non.,' of yon here seem to know me. I am *m American girl, and I will not be bargained away or buried alive by any one! You shall see," ^he added, rising and walking to th<* veranda window, "that I can make my own way, an.' take care of myself f You- shall see that Professor Dorimar taught me some thing worth knowingr Mr. Vinal was unable to stand up against a succession of blows like this, delivered by one whom he had hereto fore supposed to be the type of gentle ness ar-d docility. His mind was nar row au J slow to adapt itself to new im pressions, and it would have taken him a long time to frame a suitable reply to> Miss Randolph's unexpected attack. But the opportunity was not allowed him. For as Beatrix stood by the windewv with flushed checks and glowing eyes, and her heart beating harder than usual with indignant emotion, her glance fell upon two figures advancing "arm in arm i>p the avenue. One of them she recog nized, the other was unknown. But a strange tingle of anticipation went through her nerves. Somethiirg was-go ing to happen?something great, some thing for her! The crisis of her fate was at hand, a*d she was more than ready for it Therefore she did not start or cry out, but only smiled with an air of beautiful triumph, when Hamilton Joce lyn, relinquishing the arm of his com panion, ran up the steps of the veranda, took loth her hands in his, and said as he bent toward her: "My dear girl, 1 bring you fame and fortune!" [to be continued } The Plaster Paris Bandage. How That Valuable Auxiliary to Surgical Science Was Invented. Let me tell you a story and at the same time give you the history of the plaster paris batuiage. You must un derstand first that tbe inventions of plaster paris, starch, glue and paste bandages are of recent date. Daring the late war they were unknown, and the first place in which they figured ia surgical science was in the F.anco-* Prussian war of 1870, when the Bavarian splint was first used. The Bavarian splint, which suggested to an* American doctor the use of pLaster, was a contrivance made to fit closely to the limb. It had a seam up the back, and when removed was split down the front and opened like a book. It could theo be used again on a limb of similar dimensions?but to our story. About the year 1870 a gentleman from New York was making his way to? Chicago, where be was going to give personal superintendence to a lawsuifc in which he was the plaintif. If be lost tbe suit he would lose his all. He had'but a day to finish his journey, when, as fate would have it, be slipped on the street in Cleveland, 0., and broke his leg. The poor man was in great distress. Everything he had was involved in the Chicago lawsuit. He sent for his doctor and told him that he had decided to continue the journey, even at the risk of his life, stating at the same time the reasons why the journey was so imperative. Tbe doctor who happened to be at* ingencius fellow, had just been reading about the Bavarian splint, and at once sent for a dentist whom he had seen at few days before making plaster Paria molds of teeth. The dentist came, and both went to work on the limb. They first wrapped it securely witb cloth bandages, then buried the entire limb in a mass of the plaster Paris. As soon as it hardened the man was as sisted to rise, and a great portion of the surplus plaster was cat off, reducing tbe bulk. A pair of crutches were .secured and the injured aieo?, with his limb securely bound, boarded tbe train the next morning, to his infinite satis faction. Of course he won tbe su le an d indirectly hastened au invention that has proved a great valus to the medical world.?Iittervie? in Cincin nati Times-Star. Tiie Ten Health Command ments* 1. ThoB shall have no other food than st raeal time, 2 Thou shalt not make unto thee any pies of put into pastry the likeness of anything that is in the heavens above or iu the waters under the earth. Thou shalt not escape in eating it or frying to digest it ; for the dyspepsia will be visited upon the children of the third and fouith generation of then* that eat pie ; and long life and vigor upon tho*>e that live prudently and keep the laws of health. 3. Remember thy bread aad bake it well} for he i-ball not be kept sound that eateth his bread as dough. 4. Thou shalt not indulge ra sor row or borrow anxiety in vain. 6. Six days thon sbalt wash and keep thyself elean, and the seventh thou shah take a great bath, thou, and thy eon and thy daughter, and thy man-servan', and thy maid-servant, and the stranger that h within thy gates. Yor in six days man sweats and gathers filth and bacteria enough for disease; therefore the Lord has bleseed the bath tub and halkwed it 6 Remember thy srtirng-room and bed-chamber to keep tbem ventilated, that- thy days may be long in the laud whrch the Lord thy God giveth thee. 7 Thou shalt not eat hot biscuit. 8. Thou shalt not eat thy meat fried. 9 Thoo shaft not swallow thy food unchvwed, or highly spiced, or just before hard work, or just after it. 10. Thou shalt not keep late hours in thy neighbor's house, nor with thy neighbor'* wife, nor his man servant, nor dh maid servant, nor his cards, nor his glat-?, nor with anything that is thy ueighbor's ?- WoirtanTs Magazine - ?ml -- The Pulpit and the Stage. Tftfv F. M. ?shroHt. pastor United Brethren Charch. Blue Sound. K;:n.. savss "I feel it my i&ty to tell what woncterr.^lJr. King'* New Dis covery, ka? dome tor me. >fy lang* were badly diseased. *tu& my p?ri*biorieis thought i could) live only a few w ek? i t?- k five battle* of Dr. King*!? Now Discovery and a:n S"t*nd anil well, gaining 2fr lbs. in weight.*' Arthur Love, Manager Love's F*nny Folk* Con binatfen. write.* ; ,4Aft?r a thorough tiini and convincing evi<i?tice. I am confient Dr. King's New Discovery f-r Consumption, beat? 'em all. and cores when evervShinj: else fails. The prcntest kindness I <\?n do my many - Thous and fri?nds is to orge tbcm to try it." ?rr? Trial Doutes at Dr J. K. W. DeLorfne** Drug Store Regnlar sires 5?c. xrd $1. 3 ?mm ?cm WE CAN AND IX) Guarantee Acker's Blood Klixir for it has been hilly dein? nsirated to the pc:^p"-e of this c-un* try that it is superior to all other pr?paration? for b!o..d disease*. It ia a positive core for syphilitic poisoning. Fleers. Eruptions andf Pitnp?e?. It purities the wh?ie system an<J thoroughly boUds up the conS'.itatitM. Sold by j. F. W. DvLoruw. 7