Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

8UMTKR WATCHMAN, Established April, 1850. "Bc Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thou Aims't at, be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's " Consolidated Aug. 2, 1881.1 SUMTER, S. C., WEDNESDAY. APRIL 8, 1891. THB me? seoisKOs, ErtaMbW jua?; rye* New Series-Tel. X. 5o, 36. C|e Ma?tjmian m? j?> audron BT N. Gr. OST?E?, SUMTER, S. C. TKRM8: Two Dollars per annum-in advance. ADV ?BTIS*afIXT8. ?ne Square, first insertion............00 Xvnry snbsetroen t insertion_. 50 Contracts for three months, or longer will ba made at reduced rat?. s AH communications which subserve private la tareela will be charged for as advertisements. Obituaries and tributes of respect will,, be ?.-? ""^^ - - TBE ?10VBS NATIONAL BASE, 01e SUMTER. STATE, CITY AND COUNTY DEPOSI? TORY, SUMTER, S. C. Paid up Capital ..... $75,000 00 8orp.ua Fund. 250 00 Transacts a General Banking Business. Careta I attention given to collections. SAYINGS DEPARTMENT. Deposita of $1. and upwards received. ^ I o - tercet allowed at ?? rate of 4 per cent pee annan:. Payable quarterly, on first days of January, April, Jciy and October. 4 ^R|3I. WALLACE^ *S ?v ? IRHBS^resideB't. - L. S. Gatsoxif iii ne Birt sine S?MTB?s SC. carr AND COUNTY DEPOSITORY. Transacts a general Banking business. Also has A Sayings Bank.Department, Deposits of $1.00 and upwards received. Interest calculated at the rate of 4 per cent, per annum, payable Quarterly. ? * * HS ?\ M&? Y?S VYCRBiTH, A. Warne, Ja., President. Cashier. Aug 2?. _ h F. W. DELOU?UI Agentt -D2ALKR IN DRUGU WMM TOl?T SOAPS, PEBfUME8Y ^ AMD ALL KINDS OF USUALLY KKPT IN A FI RST-CLASS DR?t? 8TOB3L V" ? ? 1 Tobacco, Snuff and Segars, GARDEN SEEDS, W.> aaa 4 . DYE STUFFS. --ro-r-;; .Physician's Prescri ptione careiiilij compon oded, and orders answered with care and dispatch. ?Th? puMifli witt iiw^my-stoefc of Medicines complete, warranted genu? ine, and of the best quality. For IaCaafte axtd Children. IMgestkm, and OmstipatLon, Sour Diarrheas, aod Feverishness. Tana the chid is re?dare? healthy and its ideap fhrt--"^1 Cn?*oria contains no ?Mosphine or other narcotic property. "\c??bati*Hm weO adapted to children that I ^commend ii as superior to any prescription hon: to me." H. A. ABCHZR, 51. D.. m Sooft Ox?ort St, Brooklyn, N. Y. 0*1 nae Gaatarfa in my practice, and find it 1 to a?ections of chiIdren." X^StossaTSOx, M. D_ M67 2d Ave,, Nev York. Trent I ?or ceUeat ian? ledge and observation. Castcriaisan excellent medicine .?da laxative and relieving and general system very mother? have told me of its ex trooa their chi!dren." Sx. OTC. OSGOOD, Lowell, Kass. Xs* CanTAon Comptas^? Xmray Street, N. Y. SATES MONEY. <*t tawan pill? will nave maur ia debtor's Mite. ICbey am Family Medicine, a ?a waatt la*** fait. They rn? lt by attananaaflnatnwa from ,aritaaot -a-a er ?riping-, teveaagandold. Price, 20?? 8QIJ> gYKIi?rWIiEBE? CATARRH ?y's Cream Bal m fe Ooausoo tbeKasalPassages. A3 im Jn?sjmn&?a^ HBBJS tho Soros. ^^Lirftg tile Seaises o?^Paste, Smell H Ja particle |?*??lie4llBa^anchBortriI aa* ?taisreeaale. Frlee?Or. ar Drueg?ata or by "^a2T SLY BBtXTHEBS^g Warren St,New York. .~J- ; *_4a????-: 8nnrB?Maf?*tine*?aTer*?irmr1<-a.t . ??^MlnwrnaMaTV work r"r bj Am.? , A??MH, ifffiSga BkTrus ?in! J??. IV<""?. To'-!"- < '>?">. ?aKf -^?^THg^Bsee cut. Ot hera? red "inp ? ll. why -W^?aWjfeaPJam,.rf T.m.' Svene rrm ovr #o<*>. ?*> a ' 11 .- 7^nV a?E??iionth. Y<n ^?si ?lo w',rlt niu? 1,ve ' ??1^. QglgHit b<?M, wbcKvt-r y?a are. F.vfn b*. SoS f ^pSWMWpinai'r? ?rc eiwilv earninj: from to Sat^V *fl^^r ?W*?hy.Anap??. Wr?how ynnhow |aa ?a? nW ,nd .teri m. tan wr.rk in ?]?irv ?imO fca* mumr" of?W ih*"rime. Bir mo??-y fornork ?gr^ ^ ^??^Mv m. Fatluro onknnwamong tbrai. , Vat?naPT*3^ MKW?n.lwnwlerfi>l. I'srri ul?r^ free. Sfe Mallattda Co.. fto x ??0P?rtliti>ti,M>uao : 5t nw I a rr?. sKt?3nr made br John R Oo?d? ?n^r?y.N.V^jii work for u?. Krad?-, Ljooamv o?t nuke aa aaacb. but we ran ?fiati 'J J ii yii tlj fcfi IT to ram from f& to rata? ?tay st Uw Mat, aud ovre aa you pro tm. Buca arse*.alt apr?. In nny [?ri of ?Alarrica, TOB caa eotDjaMrnce at liorue. pir pBC a? y-r rime .or apare nwtnenu only to tb? work- AU anew. Orrat pay SCKK f. r mitty ?*?lLef. We start rou. fornfchin? ?wrrtbiBK. EASILY, ai*K?l>ILY learned, r A RTIC'C LAK? FKEE. Addreaa at once, b1I.\9US * CU., 1-OKXLAMJ, ?LVE IE mm wm. By ATIFRTTD BALC??. [Copyright by American Press Association.] Sfr. Jackson picked up a "half sheet of note .. paper and handed it to his friend. ..'When Mr. Abner K- Gardiner, chair-' man of the Ltoccratic county commit? tee, prosp?rons so far as his reaFestate business was concerned, portly of per? son, shrewd of eye and merry withal, came . down the stairs that Monday morning, two weeks and a half before the election, he was probably as content? ed a man as could be found itt the old Bay state. And why should he not have been? Mr. Gardiner was one,of the keenest politicians in the land, loving the game for the power it gave and the delight of matching himself against the long headed policy of his opponents, but caring nothing whatever for office. A story told of him will illustrate his character better than columns of descrip- " t?on. Wfcen_Mr. Charles T? Kerr, the chairman of the Republican county com? mittee, found himself embarrassed in his lumber business after the great flood in *81 the' first man to come to his assist? ance was Mr. Gardiner. The reason this gentleman gave was characteristic. "Politics in this county would lose all their snap if Charlie Kerr went .up," he said,' and drew the check. Now be it observed that this same Charlie Kerr had just elected his ticket, and Mr. Gar? diner saw no really good reason why he should not repeat his success the next time, but then Mr. Gardiner loved a :*foeman worthy of his steel" with' an .enduring love. Honestly anxious as many politicians really are that good men and true .should be elected to oface to serve and rule the people, Mr. Gardiner prided him? self^ more on the nomination for county judge of William Truesdale Jackson on the Democratic' ticket than on all the other men before the people. It had literally cost him years of work and thought to persuade Mr. Jackson to allow hisTtfrme to be used, and when he at last succeeded he felt that he had added a tower of strength to his side. For of all men. in that section none stood high? er than "the 'squire," as they called;him in kindly country fashion. A sound lawyer, a just and conscientious man, a good citizen, a wise counselor, he was one whom all-respected and not a few loved. A somewhat stern and grave man, his massive face crowned with a forehead Uko a dome, he looked the ideal judge. Possessed of a ponderous kind of elo? quence, with an extraordinary power of making the most intricate case clear to the minds of jndge and jory, his practice was naturally large and lucrative. In fact the salary of the position which he sought was far less than that which he earned by bis work. It was the tribute he had honestly earned by his life that no rcan, even among his opponents, sug? gested that the 'squire wished the po? sition for personal advantage. If you will picture to yourself a somewhat tall man dressed in black, a smoothly shaven face, hair rather thin and grizzled with deep thought, keen yet kindly eyes, which seemed to look through you, a slight stoop of the shoulders, a deep, me? lodious voice, you will see the 'squire before you. A? Mr. Gardiner entered the pleasant dining room of his home, and greeted the noisy girls and boys who sprang forward to kiss him good morning, his eye caught sight of a note lying on his plate. Recognizing the handwriting of the 'squire he opened it, and as he read an expression of extreme perplexity spread over his face. . Dropping the note he eagerly seized the morning paper, and hurriedly looked through it until he found an item which, when he had read, he walked slowly toward the bow win? dow of the room, whistling softly to him? self the first few bars of an old hymn tune, Men used to say that you could always tell that Abner Gardiner was puzzled when you heard that air. Pick? ing up the note once more he read it, and whistled again. "What is it, Abner?' asked Mrs. Gar? diner. . "Hothing much; the squire .wants to see me," answered her husband absent? ly, and Mr?:. Gardiner knew him too weil to ask any more questions. In order that you may see what it was that -puzzled Mr. Gardiner so much, I will reprint the note: SpsixGnsLD, Masa? Oct. 24. Homer K. Gardiner, Esq.: DEAH SI a-AH item in The Republican of this morning has attracted my attention. You will fiad it in the fourth column of the first pogo under the headline, "Can This Be True?" I should be glad to confer with you before I answer it. Yours faithfully, WILLJAX T. JACXSOX. The item in question was short and read as follows: CAN THIS BE TRUE? A correspondent has sent the folio wing note to us, and it seems to call for a reply from Mr. Jackson at once. Without any information on the subject we cannot answer the query, but we hope, for the sake of a man who is generally re? spected, it is not true. To the Editor of The Republican: Sis.-Can you tell me whether the William Truesdale Jackson who has been nominated by the Democrats for the responsible position of county judge is the same William Truesdale Jackson who deserted from the Second Massa? chusetts infantry the ni^ht before the battle of Gettysburg, and was condemned by a court mar? tial to soff er the penalty cf desertion in the face of the enemy? If he is there ar* old soldier* enough hereabout to snow him under on election day. Yours, A REPCBLICAJC. Mr. Gardiner finishoil his breakfast with a light heart and made his way down to Mr. Jackson's house. He never doubted for a second the 'squire had pre? pared a positive denial of the story, and he found himself wondering with a vague curiosity who the deserter could be. Entering Mr. Jackson's house he found that gentleman in his library. Af ter greeting each other Mr. Jackson picked up a half sheet of note paper and handed it to bis friend. On it Mr. Gar? diner read: ; To the Editor of The Republican: SIR-Jn answer to the query c.>:it.iin3d in your columns this morning permit m> to inform you j that ? am thc "William Trues date Jackton vb* de I sorted, not the night before but two nights Mora, the battle of Gettysburg from the Second Mamar ch usc tts infantry, and who was sabsefoently condemned to the penalty of the military crime. My reasons for that net were and are personal to myself. I have only to add that although I was then much younger than 1 am now and with much less experience than I now hare, I would, were I placed in the same iDOsirion today, again desert before night had fallen. I remata, sir, your obedient servant? Wuxxatt f. JACBBOJL Mr. Gardiner looked! np, his mooth shaping itself for the hymn tone, and as he looked a faint ware of color fora moment rose to the 'squire's cheek. "You are not going to send this, I hope," said Mr. Gardiner. .'Most certainly I am. If my fellow citizens choose to honor me with thei* suffrages, they shall do so with no false pretenses on my part" "But, my dear 'squire** ."The thing is trae; why should I deny it?" "There ia no use of a denial Let it alone, say nothing, and there is not a man in the county who will believe it," Mr. Johnson smiled somewhat sadly. "My friend," he said, "a suppress*) Teri will not help me in this matter. It is better to tell the truth; better, because it is right, and better policy as welL It is easy to identify me with the deserter .?in fact, I have no doubt this has been done already. But even; were it not, were that paragraph the last of it, now the question has been raised I could not consent to be silent" 4 'But the ticketr broke in the unhap? py chairman. "I think it would be better that I re? sign." "Not for a moment. That would be absolutely fatal. But 'squire, if you must acknowledge it, why not tell your reasons for leaving the service? I'm stirs they were good ones. Then it would be all right But that note is so curt; it flaunts your desertion in the face of men as though you were proud ot it; it fairly defies all public opinion." "I am proud of it sir, and I thank my God that he permitted me to desert," broke in the lawyer in his deepest tone, through which there rang an accent of strong emotion. "But neither to you nor any other man living will I tell why I deserted It must suffice you that I did, and nave never regretted it Un? derstand me, Mr. Gaxdraer," and as he spoke the faint color once more showed itself, "I know as well as you the dis- ' grace which attaches to the name of a man who deserts on the eve of a great battle. I know he is- called' a coward and a poltroon. I am of no sterner stuff , than other men, and it has required all the trust I have in One who is wiser titan I to make it clear to me . that the burden was laid on me for some good purpose. "I have thought that perhaps some other way might have been found and I have been spared, but it was not to be. I do not regret the act but I mourn over the necessity for j t.- My name as a man is as dear torneas y durs toJOOL; I make ' no vain boast, Mr. Gardiner, when I say to you that if ray ife would benefit my country I would give it gladly. Yet I stand before men as one who fled at a supreme moment of that country's peril. This is not easy for me, for I am a proud man, sir, and 1 am not a coward; but I console myself as best I may by'the con? sciousness that there is One who knows better than men, and thai he ia ins wis? dom has afflicted me. But sir, while this is hard enough, it would be far worse were I to descend to falsehood, for then I should bo ashamed in mine own eyes." Mr. Gardiner's eyes were moist an he grasped the lawyer's hand and stam? mered out an apology, for ms* ^*vtoTm though well meant advice. He offered to carry the note to tile office of The Re? publican himself, and the 'squire, visibly gratified by this, acquiesced gladly. To say that Mr. Jackson's answer to The Republican created a storm of talk is to put things in the mildest way. The . orators opposed to the Democratic ticket j made the most of the weapon which had j been given into their hands. Able edi? torials filled the Republican papers, and the machinery of the Grand Army j was used to increase the excitement. ; While enemies taunted the deserter j friends implored Mr. Jackson to speak, j but to no purpose. Entreaties and abuse j seemed to pass him by with equal lack , of effect. When he appeared at publie j meetings-for as soon as the county com- j mittee had decided he should not with? draw the squire showed he was not ! afraid to face any music going-there was at first a disposition to hiss on the part of some who were there. This, however, was speedily put down by the majority. It was impossible for these j people, among whom he had lived true and blameless for many years, to tol? erate open disrespect, when shown tb him, and once the man got a bearing there was little danger of his audience thinking of aught save his spoken thoughts. Mr. Gardiner, shrewd as usual, and since that talk with the squire respect? ing him as he never had before, was the first to see the tide had turned, and see? ing rejoiced greatly. It became appa? rent as the days went on, and the first shock wore off, that the impassioned ap? peals, and able denunciations were rapid? ly losing their effect. Three days before the election a speaker who began a dia? tribe against "the coward" ?nd "trat?or" was fairly hissed into silence. Men said to each other that while desertion was a mighty bad thing, no doubt, the squire laid it was right for him to desert, and likely as not he knew. Others thought the man could never hare deserted be? cause he was afraid or disloyal: it was not in him. Once the reaction set in it grew as rapidly as the feeling at first, and when the results of the election were declared there were many who felt no surprise. For it was Judge William Truesdale Jackson now, and his majority was larger than that of any candidate on either side. Whereat Mr. Abner K. Gardiner smiled and chuckled, and smiled again. CHAPTER IL Kneeling by her bedside was a boy of about ten years. In the month of May, 1841, a woman lay dying ia the little cottage which used to stand* on the old "main road" ja: outside the then limits of the town c Lynn. Kneeling by her bedside wa? boy of about ten years, and on his hea i th? wasted haad of his mother rest?e I tho fingers twining gently through hi ; hair. She was speaking-this mot he I who was passing away-and the bo; I drank in every word. She told him i feeble and broken sentences his littl ; sister had no one but him to look to f o protection, and she asked him to promis that so long as he should live that prc tection would be given. Satisfied by th unspoken pledge in his eyes as he looker at her, for she knew what he was, sh spoke of the comfort he had been to he since his father's death; ofthatfathe who had been taken away so suddenly and of her own joy at the prospect o seeing: her husband once more. Her sor row, too, at leaving her children d wei in her mind at times, and then he tri ex to soothe her by telling her he would b> brave and true. And so with a pray ei for them on her lips she became silent and the boy knew when he once mon looked at her that the ears that had neve bee? deaf to him were deaf now. The two children-Willie, aged ten and May, aged not quite half a year were not left penniless. Their father Dr. William Jackson, had accumula tet a little money, and their mother bru owned property when she married Their only living relation, a brother o: Mrs. Jackson, lived in New York, an<: he at once asked them to come and li vi with him. For five years Willie went i\ the New York schools and May grev< np into as charming a little girl as one could find Then Mr. Truesdale died leaving hi; money to his nephew and niece, and Willie made np his mind. the> would move back to Lynn. Here thej lived in the house of their guardian. Judge Kacie, and Willie in due time went to Harvard, and, winning his de gree in arts, passed into the law school. He was singularly old for his age. Even as a boy he was grave, self con? tained and generally silent, and he cared little for the amusements which filled the time of his fellows. He was exceed? ingly fond of reading, and fairly de roared all the books he could find. Studying hard, he stood well np in his classes at all times, but it was not until he got into the law school that he really showed the stun! in him. To the mind of Mr. Jackson-it was curious how soon the use of Ms first name was dropped by his friends-the law assimilated as its natural food. The dry est of dry treatises possessed aa interest for him that noth? ing else had. He used to astonish his guardian by reading the code for pleas? ure. For Judge Black was one of those 'easygoing men who drift forward in life's race rather, than push, doing their work respectably and living in a thoroughly respectable way. However, the judge knew a man when -he saw one, and he was only too glad to offer bis ward a partnership as soon as he had passed the bar. It was not long before the new finn of Black & Jackson began to attract attention in the courts. The senior partner was without a particle cf jealousy, and was only too glad to give the credit for the manner in which their cases were presented to his earnest, laborious and painstaking junior. After a year or two men said, with a shake of the head, Lynn could not keep the "young judge," as they called him; that in the natural course of events he would go to Boston and seek a wider field for bis abilities. AH this while May Jackson was grow? ing np into the most winsome little creature imaginable. She was utterly unlike her brother. She was capricious, exceedingly pretty, as full of coquetry as abe could live; whimsical, but just as charming as a sweet, bright, lovable American girl should be, and she loved her grave, stem brother as she loved no human being. From a time beyond which she could remember nothing he had. been father and mother and brother all in one. He was never too busy to listen to her wants and wishes, never unwilling to do things for her. He com? forted her in her troubles, rejoiced when she was glad. To him she brought all things that interested her, sure of inter eat and help from him. And this feel? ing for her was an odd compound of pa? ternal and fraternal love. He had never for one moment forgotten his pledge to his dying mother, nor had it in truth been difBcui t to keep, for his love for bis sister was a part of Will Jackson's very being. She amused him intensely as she grew up. Her capriciousness was a source of wonder, and she had the charm for him of a constant series of surprises. The two attracted every one that met them, and the love they felt for each other was a very beautiful thing. In 1838 Will Jackson was 27, and May was a young lady just going into society. The brother had been a partner in the firm for six years, and had built up for himself a business which paid him a handsome income. It was at this time that Miss Carrie Farnham, a connection of Judge Beach, came to Lynn, and Will Jackson met his fate. He fell in love with her as strong men fall in love; he fairly worshiped the ground she walked on. She, too, had not known him very long before she thought she had never seen such a man before. When she went home to Springfield she left the memory of a look from her dark brue eyes for Will Jackson to ponder over, and when, in the following August, he followed hen? to her home, and as they walked along a lane one evening asked her a question the answer was "Yes." To his dying day Will Jackson never forgot that lane and the smell of the twilight time. Friends and relatives ap? proved, and the day was set for the wed? ding. It is probable that May would have alternated between jealousy and gladness were it not that her pretty little head was filled with thoughts of her own just then. 'The time came for the wed? ding, and Carrie Farnham went to Bos? ton to do some shopping. I must harry over this part of. the story. There were big headlines in the paper one morning over the story of the railroad wreck, and Will Jackson followed the body of the girl he loved as the agony of the dead march wailed and sobbed from the great organ! He went back to his desk and plunged into work to find distraction from his sorrow. He never spoke of the girl to any one, repulsing for the first time in his life his sister May. Except that he was graver than before there was little change in the man. The following year May was married to Charlie Farnham, a younger brother of the girl who was gone, and Will Jackson rejoiced over his sister's happiness. He beliaved very generously, he transferred all the prop? erty they had together inherited in trust for her and her children. As Mr. Farn? ham was employed in a bank in Boston May went there to live with her hus? band, bnt every week letters from Will and herself crossed each other. When the gun which was fired on , Fort Sumter in 18G1 "echoed 'round the j world," Will Jackson was one of the j first men in Lynn to volunteer. To such a man the call issued by President Lin? coln came as an order" from heaven, and when the b^cond Massachusetts m- : fantry was recruited he at once signed , the roll. His choice of a regiment was natural, for one of its officers, Capt. I and afterward Lieut. CoL C. E. Mudge, j who died at Gettysburg on July 8, 1863, | and to whose memory the beautiful j church of St. Stephens was afterward ! built in Lynn, was his greatest personal ? friend. Through the long weary months of fighting and marching Will Jackson went steadily on, doing his duty as he did most things in this Ufe-with all his might. CHAPTER TH. Hold the little one for Will to taKe. Be had never seen the child before. When (Jen. Lee invaded Pennsylvania, and the armies of the north gathered hastily together under Gen. Meade to repel the onward march of "the flag with a single star," the Second Massa? chusetts was in its place prepared "to take part in what was to be one of the most momentous and most bloody battles of the civil war. And with his regiment was Will Jackson, a private still, for promotion had been offered to him in vain. The last time wheo his lieutenant colonel had urged him to accept, for these two were fast friends as ever, he had said with a laugh, "Old man, after this war is over there will be mighty few privates, and Fm after all the dis? tinction I can get." So the subject was dropped-forever, as it turned out. It was two days before the line of fire which was to end the lives of so many brave men on each side began, as Reyn? olds' corps struck Heth's men, that Will Jackson, coming in*from sentry duty, found the mail had arrived and recog? nized the handwriting of his sister. As he read the letter his tace grew very 8tern, and he more than once clenched his fist unconsciously. It was a long letter, full of repetitions and contra? dictions, but he made out that May had discovered her husband was in the power of a lot of men who were urging him to do something, she knew not exactly what, but which would utterly ruin him. In one sentence she declared that Charlie was innocent of wrong doing, and in the next she implored her brother by all the love he had always shown for her, by bis love for his mother, by his love for the girl who was gone, by his love for the baby his sister held in her arms, to save that baby's father. She came to him she said, when she could go to no one else-he alone could do anything. As Will Jackson sat there far into the night heedless of military calls a fearful struggle went on within him. He knew as every man in the fast gathering hosts knew that a great battle was pending. His sense of duty to his country, his pride in his own good name, his soldier's instinct alike made the idea of desertion intolerable to him. And yet-it was May's husband and Carrie's brother! As he thought he took out the picture of his dead love and kissed it passionately. If he waited for the battle he might be killed, and then- May was right, there was no one else who could do this thing. But the shame of it! the bitter, intol? erable shame! Men would say, and say with apparent reason, that he had deserted coward fashion! He, Will Jackson, through whoso veins no drop of coward's blood ever ran! He would be false to bis country when it needed him, false to that flag he loved ?nd idol? ized as he loved and idolized the mem? ory of his mother! He would be false to the oath he swore before God and man to fight for the Union until the end; he, who lind never consciously broken his lightest word, would do this thing. It was too much to ask, too much to de? mand of him, and burying his head in his hands he prayed the cup might pass from bim. "Carrie's brother, May's husband! May's husband, Carrie's brother!" It rang through his brain like a dull refrain of torture. Could he refuse to sacrifice himself? It was true he was asked to lay himself on the altar, and with his own hands he was asked to tear out his pride, his loyalty, his honor! But could lie refuse? Could he refuse? It was May's husband and Carrie's brother who would go-who would drown before his eyes in tho foul waters of crime and shame unless he jumped in to save! Could he refuse? Could he refuse? To give his life for the man who had brought this misery on him would, he thought, have been so easy. But to give himself, his honor, his word, his loyalty; it was very, very hard! It was character? istic of the man that he spoke nor thought no word of curse against bk, brother-in-law. To him the supremo decision he was called on to make was all in all. On the one side were his pledge to his mother (and in the still night he seemed to hear her words again), his love for the sister and his love for his dead: on the other were his honor, his loyalty, his pride, his plighted faith! No wonder when he rose from his seat and walked down the long line of the bivouac he should have staggered as one who has taken strong drink. For when the morning roll call rang out Private Will? iam Jackson was absent. A hurried search and a yet more hurried court martial followed, but Gettysburg was but one day off and men had too much : to think of to spend time in wonder over the absence of one. His friends mourned for a brief space, but many of ; them died in the angle or along the thin lines of blue which charged and repelled j alternately, and the desertion was for- j gotten save and except for a brief para- : graph in the note l>ook of the adjutant ' of the regiment. . j That May should weep and laugh as she felt the strong arms of her brother around her once more, and with the childlike faith she always had in him should know it was all right now, was but natural. It was natural, too, that she should send for her baby, and with the air of a queen bestowing the most ? cherished of all decorations hold the lit? tle one out for Will to take. . He had never seen thc child before, and he was i conscious as she looked up at him with ber dark blue eyes-this little Carrie with the other Carrie's eyes-and laughed attie grave, sorrow worn face that AfmV^o^ifr her, of a great wave of love swelling in his heart. God was good to Will Jackson. Already ho felt his Sacrifice had been accepted? The deep lines which suffering had graven on his countenance with her firmest touch attracted May's attention, but be? yond exclaiming, "Why, Will, how old you lookr and supposing it came from "this awful war/she thought little of it. Her brother, as he answered her gently, smiled somewhat bitterly. He had reached his sister's house about 10 o'clock in the morning, and Charlie Farnham did not come back until din? ner, at 6. When he saw his brother-in law he flushed np rather uneasily, for while be had known nothing of May's letter he instinctively felt something was coming. After dinner he proposed to take Will around to the club, and the latter went gladly enough. In a hotel corridor afterward Will noticed that Charlie was hailed by two or three men who looked decidedly fast. One of them in particular, a Mr. Cochran, Mr. Jack? son felt a sudden dislike for. The man was tall, well dressed, with a blonde mus? tache and a sufficiently pleasant man? ner, but he had shifty eyes. About half past 9 the two went home, where they saw May for a few moments, and she then bid them good night. As she kissed her brother she whispered, "You prom? ised," and he satisfied her with a look. For all day long May had pleaded with him that he make it easy for Charlie; like many women, she had called in a power of which, when it came, she was genuine? ly afraid. The two men went into the library,lighted their cigars,and as Charlie walked up and down the room somewhat nervously Will sat at the table absently drawing heads on the blotting pad. "Charlie," he said at last without looking np, "when your sister Carrie died I thought there was nothing more for me in this life. Then you and May loved each other, and I gave her gladly to you. You two and little Carrie are all 1 have in the world. I would give my life for either of you, my brother!" The deep music of the tones ceased as the hand went idly on sketching heads on the blotting pad. Charlie Farnham stood still, his hand pressed on his heart, his face very pale and the cigar burning on the hearth where he had thrown it. "It sometimes happens in this life," began Will again, "that a man becomes entangled in the nets of scoundrels with? out intentional wrong on his part. Then it is the place, the duty, the privilege of those who love him to set him free. Is there anything that I have a right to do for you, you who are the brother of my dead love and the husband of my sis? ter?" The man spoken to paced rapidly back and forward, while the man who spoke did not look up to see the other's shame. "I deserted from the army"-Charlie started and looked at Will as the latter moistened his dry lips-"because I heard you were in trouble. It was a great sac? rifice I made for you, my brother, and DOW I am here to help you and to save." CHAPTER IV. Charlu Farnham broke down. Charlie Farnham broke down. He flung himself on his knees beside Will and with the latter's arm around him brokenly told his story. He had one evening at the club, when he was with Cochran, written the signature of Mr. Floyd, the president of the bank in which he was a telfc-r, on a piece of paper. The paper was blank at the time, and be had done this thing more to show he could than anything else. He had no thought of harm, and had for? gotten the whole business until a week afterward, when Cochran had shown it to him with a note written above it at sixty days' time, payable to his own or? der and indorsed on the back to Coch? ran. The signature on the back was as much a forgery as was that of Mr. Floyd, but the forgery was very good, and one of Cochran's friends was ready to swear he saw Farnham write the in? dorsement. Since then they had been making his life a misery to him, demand? ing that he give them the combination of the safe. He had been so afraid he might yield that he had gone to the cashier and asked him to change the combination, so that now he did not know it When he told Cochran of the change that individual had become very angry and had ordered him to find out the new series at once or take the conse? quences. "Why did you not go to Mr. Floyd and tell him the whole story?** asked Will "Because they threatened to have the note discounted in New York, and the bank which cashed it would have held me." Will Jackson was silent, marveling in his own soul that men could be so weak. "Where is this note?' he asked at last "I think Cochran has it in his rooms. He says it is in New York, but he is such a liar I do not believe him. Oh, Will, can you get me out of this scrape? I swear I will never get into another as long as I Kve. For May's sake and little Carrie's you will do it. won't you. Will?" "Yes, for Carries sake." whispered Will, pressing his arm against the side where the picture rested. "Where does this man liver he asked. "He has rooms at 17 Milk street, and you can always find him before ll." Long and earnestly the two men talked, the one protesting again and again his repentance and his resolve to lead a bet? ter life, and the other counseling m kindly fashion. At last they separated, and Charlie, after seeing his brother-in law to his room, went to his own with a tighter heart than he had known for many a day. May was awake, and be? fore he slept he had told his wife the story; but they were both happy, for was not Will there? In the mean time Will Jackson threw himself on his bed and lay there think? ing. It seemed to him that the cause for the awful trial he had gone through was so pitiful, so mean! He could see the men together, foolish Charlie excited with wine and full of a miserable bravado, whilo the others sat there and lured him into their net. And then, a little cour? age, a little open dealing, and he would have been left with his oath to his corm try unbroken. But he was there to B?ve, and through the silence of the ni?ht he seemed to hear a dead girl's voice full of gratitude and love! After breakfast Will Jackson walked , down town, and reaching Milk street, ( rang the bell at No. 17. From a man i who opened the door he found out where Mr. Cochran's rooms were, and saying he bsd business with that person walked ft pe tai rs, and knocked at the door. A sleepy voice called oat, "Come mf and pawing through the door Will Jackson locked it behind him. The man in the ; bed sat np at this and stared. Will { walked over to bim, and drawing a re '. volver covered bim with it CHAPTER V. *'/ have come here to get that piece of paper or to kill you.1* "Mr. Cochran,'* he began in a voice which was as harsh as the sound of sharpening a saw, "my brother, Charles Farnham, tells me that yon and your accomplices have procured from him by fraud a certain document purporting to be a note signed by John Floyd, the president of the bank, in which my brother is employed. The signature to this note is a forgery, executed by my brother, but the note itself was added after the Signatare was written, and the indorsement has my brother's name forged to it I have come to get that note from yon." Cochran looked at his visitor, and as he looked it seemed to him that Will Jackson's eyes blazed with constrained, repressed ferocity in their deep sockets. He shuddered as he looked. "I-I know nothing," he stammered, involuntarily shrinking away from those awful eyes. "Do not give yourself the trouble of lying to me. Mr. Cochran, because a man of the world like yonrself will recognize the uselessness of it I repeat, I am here for that paper." "It is in New York," began Cochran eagerly. "For God's sake. Mr. Jackson, don't point that thing at mef "It is in New York," repeated the vis? itor slowly. "Then I am sorry" "It is in New York, I swear it isr "Because its absence from Boston will cost you your life within five minutes time, Mr. Cochran." "What-what do you mean?" asked the other quaveringly. "I mean this. I have come here to get that piece of paper or to kill you, and I will have it or your life before five min I utes. I shall not look at my watch; yon can trust me not to make the time too long," he added grimly. Cochran gave one look at Will Jack? son's face, saw murder there, and knew it was death to refuse. "If you will wait until I get np," he said, hastily, "you shall have it" "Very good; that is what I want" The man climbed out of the bed, and going to a desk in the corner opened it "Be careful Don't touch that re? volver or I will press the trigger," came in cold, harsh tones from the- visitor. "I wasn't going to," hastily replied Cochran. "I only want to get the note. Ah, here it is," ?nc taming he held a slip of paper out "Hold it up so that I can read it Now the other side. Yes; that is right," j and taking the paper Will Jackson put I it in his pocket Then walking over to the desk he picked up the revolver lying j there. "I will give this to the man ; down stairs," he said. "Now, Mr. Coch I ran, I have the honor, of bidding yon ; good day. I think you will be able to \ find pleasanter places of residence than i Boston for the future," and passing through the door he went down the stair ; way, rang the bell and gave the revolver to the servant, and then walked quietly home, where he plaj-ed with little Car? ne and chatted with May until Charlie came home. "There, Charlie," he said, "is yonr note, which you had better burn. Re? member it has cost a great price, and you will be careful for the futuro." "How on earth did yon get itT asked the brother-in-law, after many protesta? tions of gratitude and promises. "Mr. Cochran listened to argument," replied Will grimly, and that was all they ever heard. As might have been expected. Will Jackson announced his intention of re? turning to his regiment the next day, where he proposed to face the inevitable trial, confess his desertion and submit to his punishment But it was not to >>e. The next morning, after a sleepless night, he complained of pain in his head, and when the physician came the patient was in a raging fever. Before forty eight hours had elapsei it was evident that brain fever had him in its clutch. The trial and suffering, the mental strain he had gone through had been too much for him. and it became a question wheth? er he had not in fact laid down his life that his brother might remain unstain? ed. Day after day and through the long watches of the night he tossed and talked and tossed again. Charlie Farn? ham and his wife learned to know the sacrifice which Will Jackson had made as the}* listened to his pitiful pleading to be spared. During that time, too, Char? lie Farnham had an impression produced on him which never wore away; there was little fear that he would again put himself in jeopardy. When the patient recovered from the physical sickness it was found that his mind had received a shock from which it would take years to recover. Ile was uot exactly insane, but he seemed dull and stupid, and he remembered nothing at all of the past The physicians who attended him prescribed absolute rest from every kind of labor, and a home was found for him in one of those asy? lums where kindness rules the applica? tion of scientific treatment Hero he remained four years, patient and uncom? plaining, and gradually his mental power came back to Iii tn. With it came mem? ory, fai^t at first, but clearer and strong? er as the days went by. Had it not been for the deeply religious nature of the m;iu it is probable that with tho recollection of the sacrifice a relapse would have driven him back, and this was greatly feared-by his physicians. One day when Charlie was with him a chance paragraph iii the uewspaper tell- j ing of the arrest of Obchran in Chicago caught Will's eye. He seemed dazed for a moment and then. Hke a flash, he re? membered it all And with the memory aa expression came over his face tint made Charlie cry out Will rose, paced hurriedly up and down the walk, his features working violently, and when '. Dr. Armstrong hurried up to him and took his arm he shook bim off with a gesture of intense anger. The physician wa?ebecr him carefully and CJtiarlie sai there almost sick wi tb apprehension, j At last WiH paused, sad' thinking: deeply < stood for a moment. Then com? ing np to his brother-in-law be held- ont bis hand. j "God saw fit ftffafttfbfe me; Charlie," he said solemnly, "and who am I that 1 should question his wisdom or his love?" The physician gave a sigh of relief as Charlie bent his head, the tears felling: on the hand he held. Three months after this Will left the asylum and settled in Springfield, whore* he began the practice of toe law once more. As his mental power returned more fully he slowly built up for himself a business which gave him more money than he cared to spend. Charlie and Ma/ and little Carrie and other little one* that came to them* lived happily, and there was no other lapse on the husband and father's part The work which WiU Jackson had been called on to do had been done well and thoroughly, and as he looked back at it all he was able try say in time he was glad. And this is the story which Mr. Abner" K. Gardiner, the chairman of the Demo* eratic county committee who prided himself on the nomination of William Troesdale Jackson, never heard told? THE xjrrx SOU-NO WORDS TO GIRLS*. A Wenau Doctor Telle Tbem When Ex' e-rcise Is and Is Not HelpfaL It is to be remembered that healthy' young girls should Bot differ greatly from boys in regard tc>agi'lity,bwtonly in regard to endurance' .ind ?ach muscular strength as involves boxing, wrestling or the'fitting: and carrying of weights. A girl should be able to move her own body swiftly and deftly, but her inferior muscular forcer makes it always uoadvis able and often1 m jurions to impose' upon ber tasks which involve moving other bod? ies if these have any weight. In accordance with this simple rule gi rte should be encouraged to- wait, run, climb, swim, ride, skate, shoot with the bow atx? arrow. A woman expert at firearms Ls au anomaly, unless she be compelled to live in lonely places and requires the know? ledge for her protection. Rowing is a most excellent exercise if the boat be not too heavy. The exercise of jumping does not seem advisable, whether that of excessive rope jumping or high leaps at gymnasium. This restriction was not always observed, for Euripides makes a Spartan youth eulo? gize the giri he admired precisely for ber skill at leaping. The dangers from this exercise have been exaggerated, yet there is an occasional risk of dis pl ar i g internal organs by a sudden leap upon r f~*t> Thc value of thc forms of . alar ex? ercise which have been ena. oed has scarcely ljeeu exaggerated in the preserva? tion of health. For girls who are sickly and whose bones and muscles have never been adequately developed the systematic ! exercise of each limb, as is obtainable in a gymnasium, is requisite. I AH exercise must be graduated accord - ; ing to tho previous habits of the giri. It is very injurious to start off suddenly ? in summer vacations and take walks of ten and fifteen miles, when previous cus? tom had not exceeded a mile a day. Women entirely unable to walk at all from hysterical paralysis may be re-edu? cated to do so by being encouraged to take two steps on one day, four steps on the next day and so on. This principle of gradual increase is of course still more easily applied to well persons. It ? never well and sometimes dangerous to prolong any form of exercise too much. This is especially true of skating Few girls can skate even an hour, because in this climate the ice does not usually last long enough to allow of the gradual in? crease to a period of two hours. It should be unnecessary to add that no exercises can be considered satisfactory which am performed in light clothing or corsets. If no girl wore corsets under tho age of 25 thc chest would have a chance to acquire ita full developement, the habit of proper breathing would be established and proper fitting corsets could then be worn with impunity.-Mary Putnam Jacoby in New York Herald. Th? Absurdity of Mourning Periods. It is seldom that any one who has had a large circle of acquaintances dies that there is not considerable, and by no means chari? table, criticism of thc actions of his sur? viving relatives. They are incessantly watched, that they make no departo re from thc formt? supposed to bc proper under the ctrcumstances. and the depth of the mourning of the ladies is minutely noted. It is known to the day when the first speck of white or color appears upon their dresses, and thc first evening the piano is opened thc whole set of their friends rai?? their unod s in horror. The first night they go to thc opera or theatre they do so trembling. Nor do they escape censure if they dare too early to take an airing in th park. The front windows of the house r ust bc kept tightly closed or bowed with ribbons of black. The very expression of their faces are taken account of; a smile declare? their heartlessness. The wives, and thc mothers, and the daughters, and thc sis? ters must never stir out of doors without the long, heavy crape veils hanging down over their faces, and beneath whick they can scarcely breathe.-Progress. How to Sluice a Glove Mender. Thc materials required for this useful and pretty article can be obtained for a small amount at almost any fancy goods store, as follows: One celluloid or ivory ring, about two inches in diameter; one plait or braid of assorted thread, one glove mender, one pair small embroidery scissors, three yards of No. 1 ribbon, one-half yard of Xo. 12 ribbon, the same color, and a paper of glove needles. On the celluloid ring cither braid cr tie with a loop knot about twenty strands of the assorted thread. Then tie the scissors to the ring by one yard and a half of the narrow ribbon, and with the remainder fasten tbe glove mender in thc same manner. Next tic the wide ribbon on the ring in a neat bow, in one end of which weave about four of the needles, and the mender is complete. Not only is it useful for mending gloves, but for sewing on buttons, and it saves many a hunt for the proper shade with which to take the proverbial "stitch in time."-Youth's Companion. Use Hard Pillows. The Japanese don't have wrinkles be? cause they do not use pillows. Cuddle down to sleep upon a feather pillow, and notice how it increases the furrows around the eyes. Ou the other hand, see how beau? tifully a block pillow works. Place it comfortably under the neck, and you will enjoy the position very much, and lt is marvelous to note how much and how lit? tle strain is put upon thc facial muscles and how smoothly they lie in consequence. -Exchange. Air Everything Frequently. Thc importance of thoroughly airing ar? ticles of wearing apparel must not be for? gotten, and all trunks, closets and ward? robes should be frequently opened, anti their content? exposed to a generous cur? rent of outside air. There are many other sources of air pollution, a *t fewer people would be sick and there would be much less misery if some of the simpler precau? tions would bc* more closely followed. Exchange. OUR VERY BEST PKOPLV. Confirm oarstireiuen: .vhrti w? MJ that A?*k?r** English Reme:: is in every way superior ??> say and *U other prep .ration* f<>r th? Th:o*t nm! Lungs. In xXnno ing .Vngh :tn>\ <*r-ur> it i? ma*ic3?d rc ievc ?f one*-. We ?ff r y a a sample bottle free. K?-tnf ni>>?r. 'his Keisnwly > h sol ii on a p >silivo gunmutv* by J. F. W. De Lor me. 3