Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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T?*j> SUMTER WATCHMAN, Established April, 1850. "Be Just and Fear not-Let all the Ends thou Aims't at. be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's Tai TXUfc SOUTBTCON, Established June, lc? ? " Consolidated Ang. 2, 1881.1 SUMTER, S. C., WEDNESDAY, APRIL 29, 1891. Sew Series-Yo?. X. So. 39. C|je SEakjmti?i aub Sacr?n Published CB?ry Wednesday,, r. BY v' ^ ; ^ N. Gr. OSTEEN, P SUMTER, S. C. TKRMS: Two Dollars per an G um-in advance. ADTIRTI8KMIRTB. One Square, Srst insertion...............00 J very subs?quent insertion. 50 Contracts for three months, or lor ger will be made at reduced rates. AU communications which subserve private interests will be charged for as advertisements. Obituaries and tributes of respect will be charged for. TIE SDNSDS NATION AL RAKE, & OP SUMTER. STATS, CITY AND COUNTY DEPOSI? TORY, SUMTER, S. C. Paid up Capital . . . Ss . $75,00(> 00 Surplus Fund. 9,250 00 Transacts a G?nerai Bankin? Business. Careful attention given to collections. SAYINGS DEPARTMENT.! Deposits of $1 and upwards received. In? terest allowed at the ra* .' 4 per cent, per annan. Payable qn? , on 6rst days of January, April, July av ? October. R. M. WALLACE, Vice President. L. S. CARSON, Aug. 7 Cashier. TBE UM IIP SII?EI?, _ SUMTER, S C. CITY AND COUNTY DEPOSITORY. Transacts a general Banking business. Also has A Savings Bank Department Deposits of $1.00 and upwards received. Interest calculated at the rate ef 4 per cent, per annum, payable quarterly. W. P. B. HAYNSWORTH, A. Warre, Je., President. Cashier. Ang 21. Jar Infants ?ad Children. Cantearla promotes ingestion, and overcomes frfatnkrocy, 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 wei! adapted to children that I recommend it as superior to any prescription known to rae." B H. A. ARCHER, M. m South Oxford St, Brooklyn, N. T. MI nee Castoria in my practice, and find it specially adapted to affections of children.T ALEC ROBERTSON, M. D_ 1057 2d Ave., New York. "From personal knowledge and observation Iou say ?tat Castoria is an excellent medicine for child-en. acting as a laxative and relieving tte pent sp bowels and. general system very . naen. Many motters have told me of its ex? ponent effect upon their children." DR. G. C OSGOOD, Lowen, Mass. Tax Corr?.cn COXPXNY, 77 Murray Street, N. Y. Tuft s Pills This popul?r remedy never fails to ef factually ear? . Dyspepsia, Constipation Sick Headache, Biliousness And ali diseases aa?singr from a Torpid Liver and Bad Digestion. The malara! result ls good appetite txea?r^imt^<tm******** ^e&~aafe ^mm^^-^B^^ Snuj^jhtle, fortune*)havehren cadrai Sr u% br Anns l'.ip-, Anarin, AkSK^^^90HHkTrx3>. an.] Jun. Kuan, T?lcd?s Ohio. flPa8%j3^MM^M**< c";- Uti?rr??rr<luii?R?swril. Woy m" W^WMfe^TBf1'^'41'' s"'"C' tni over?S<?0.00 s. j 96%fflH'?<>?H>. Y"U r.iu i!o ibe work ~~id live / AVA. aa^WaaaaSQT ^"iar~ n herrr?r you ?r<-. Kven bc J J^\w yW^^^?V?ri,Inc*r" uc'' r**il? rarnin- frcti) ?3 to / mMmuW **^***,.r- AK ?pw?. Wcuhow ycuhow fcT- '?flam *B^*;'-art 5?? C'?n w?-rk in ?yi-ir.- timo ^r* 3* JM^P oraUih-tin?-. Bis moory for viork /^?^?^aa^HFjJL . *r?W< Failure unknown mmnc ih?T?. M.MmnettACa^.Bcijfcei'O Portlaw ?, Maine ^nrS. .SSOOO.Ce? * b'-inp: Tiia.lc br John R SQdfm Goodwin,! roy. X.Y^at v>ork f?>r aa. Kr?der, Xj^aMaa^^ft ^oo ow}- ai.! ?ifck? .is moen, but v>c caa BajS ?^B*caei? T'jo.?iiii?-kly born- t<.<-=rn fr.o?ito Haw -^??SB * ilay ac tie ilax., cud mere a* von fro MFWnW Wm BLOA- f^-ti ?nts.ail cpr*. I" ?av jtr of pa. T ?*^^BAiaerica.yT ra? cvrrrni<nre st Jiocie. piv Kj *?&jg?B>r>% 3,1 your tin>e,<r ?[rjre moments ooh :o T?. m\\W??mW *** work- *? n<"?- Creal javStRMr ^4^?SfP^y every worker. We u?rt voe famishiue ^.?3*7 evrrytbras EASiJ.Y, SHELDILi' learned. yVpjHWk. 1'AicTK L'i.AlZS >1OE. Addrea?at or.ee .CJaaWaKaaV^ -VU-\ SO S * ta, ??TLAiD, MAINE 6. W. DICK, D. D. S. Onice over Begin's New Store, KKTRAJICK OS MAIN STEKKT SUMTER, S. C. Office Hours.-9 to 1;30 ; 2:30 to 5. Sept 8_ Dr. T. W. BOOKHABT, DENTAL SURGEON. Office over Bultmsn k Bro.'s Shoe Store ENTRANOS ON MAIN STRKKT. SUMTER, S. C. Office Hours-9 to 1:30 ; 2:30 to 5. April 17-o_ CITY LOTS AHO FARMING LANDS FOR SALE. "TTTE HAVE ON HAND more than 200 W business, and residence lots, many of the latter improved, for sale on easy terms. Those wanting lots would do well to consult ns before buying, and those having proper'y in city or country for sale are requested to place same in our hands and we will find purchasers. W. A. BOWMAN, ft W.H. INGRAM, May 21 Real Estate Brokers ft Agents. FOB SALE, CHEAP. SEVERAL FINE BUILDING LOTS ON Calhoun aod Republican Streets, near my residence and residence of Opt. John Seid. A rare chance to buy a home. Lots ail high and dry and very desirable. Terms easy. Immediate possession given. For full particulars call on, or address D. J. WINN. Sumter, S. C., Nov. 26, 1890. HUBBES STAMPS : ?AME STAMPS FOR MARKING CLOTHING vi tb in de! lib!? ink, or for printing visiting j cards, and STAMPS OF ANY KIND j for Bumping BUSINESS CARDS, EX VE I - ? OPES or anything else. Specimens of various styles on hand, which will beeb..wo with pleas ; are.# The LOWEST PRICES possible, and '? ?Hers filled promptly. j Call oe N. G. OSTEEN, Jnr At the Watchman and Southron Oibce Sumter S. C. By SOBEBT C. V. HEYEBS. [Copyright by American Press Association.! - CHAPTER L "They are bound to liave you for our next governor" she said. Although the judge was busy in thought he could not help it that his mind, separate and apart from the work in hand, dwelt upon the Kkelihood of his succeeding in the ambition of his life. Friends had written him, his thought had told him that he had but to accept and the nomination would be his. The governorship-was not. that an honor of which any man might be proud? The light from the argand burner spread a halo around I "s brow. Rows of book cases hemmed him in; the en? graved faces of Channing, Burke and Daniel Webster looked down upon him from the wails. Apart from the portraiture of such worthies, directly opposite his writing table was a life size crayon of a lady with bared neck, her fine eyes seemingly concentrated Upon the bended form of the judge as his pen moved over the pa? per, several pages of which, covered with his legally bad handwriting, lay scat? tered before him. The logs flared in the fireplace and cast a glow upon the crayon picture till the eyes seemed al? most like those of a living person. It was a long table at which the judge sat, and one end of it was flanked by a number of newspapers. A lady in a low chair was at this end of the table, her white jeweled fingers turning the huge evening sheet she had been scanning be? fore clipping a paragraph from it as she had clipped similar paragraphs from sev? eral other papers there. It was easy to see that she was the original of the crayon portrait, her face some years older, indeed, than the pictured .one, scarcely so ideal as that, with more con? trol of the under lip. This was the judge's wife. She had been out to dinner, and with? out changing her gown had come into the study and taken her usual place at her end of the long table. Here she sat evening after evening, calling herself his Nemesis, his Pallas, his Eloise, his Laura, while he wrote at his papers or read from the calf bound volumes that made the atmosphere pungently musty. At one moment while she looked over the paper she held, a sparkling ornament that clasped the rich lace at her throat became unclasped, and she let the paper rattle into her lap while she made tho gold hasp secure. Then she ran her hand up to the solitaires in her ears with a feminine automatic gesture* and taking up a pair of scissors began cutting an item from the paper. "They are bound to have yo'n for our next governor," she said as she snipped the paper. "Hero is the seventh men? tion in today's papers; my scrap book will soon be full of your praises. This one says you are a shining example of justice and logic-in other words, that you have the honor of never having had one of your decisions reversed by the higher court. What will they say by election time?" She picked up some other scraps she had extracted from the leviathans of the printing press. . "Listen to this: *His honor's private Kfe is irreproachable'-- No, that is -not what I meant. 'Even his most bitter opponent couk'l find little in the actions of his many years of public life to shadow the page whereon is written a laudable ambition.' That sounds rather peculiar: but then the writer may be young. Again, 'Here is an example of integrity allied to ambition whose methods are sans peur et sans reproche.' Goodness! how hoi that fire isl" She pushed her chair a little farther from the hearth. "Heigho! That dinner was a very stupid affair, and the 'buds' and young men at the reception insupportable. Estelle was the prettiest girl there, Gen. Wayne said he was sorry you were too busy to come-so am I-and that he hoped you would write to-night and tell him that you will accept the nomination -not later than to-night. He begins with t?e politicians to-morrow." The judge smiled, his lips moving as though they carried a word in the ex? pression of which on bis paper she had interrupted him; but he did not look up nor did his pen stop. Not until he had come to the end of the long page and laid it with its predecessors before him did he speak, and then it was while he reached for another sheet of legal cap. "I hope you had a pleasant dinner," he said, as though he had heard not a word his wife had spoken. She was used to this and did not resent it. "Is that your decision in the Dunlap case?" she asked, referring to his papers. "Yes," he said. "A peculiarly flagrant case," rhe com? mented. "Your decision ought to tell greatly-all the business world, will watch you in that. On that decision hinges much of your chances or rather your praise or blame in your new ca? pacity as a gubernatorial nominee." Without waiting for a reply she went on, as a light girlish laugh floated into the room: "I am glad we never had a son; you never know what a boy may turn out to be. The best care will not always make the best man; look at clergymen's sons. Though as for that, in nine cases out of ten, a clergyman pays little attention to his children, rele? gating all that to the often incapable wife, who is hampered by church work and trying to escape the scrutiny of the women of the congregation." Again the light laugh came in. "John Elwyn came home from the reception with us. Gen. Wayne was telling me that John's feiner will make another half million ont of those coal fields of hi?. Has that English syndicate really made overtures, toward buying aim out?" The judge laid down his pen; ever since John Elwyn's name had been men- 1 tioned the pen had not made a stroke. } "1 don't altogether like young Elwyn," j he said deliberately. i "What is. there against him?" asked I his wife, as though she had never befo j heard the objection: was she not a car ? ful mother, determined to have her wi against a whim of the father? "In the first place," said the judg "he is an idler; he promenades tl streets, goes to horse races, and so on the "so on" remaining unexplained. "There is no necessity for him : work." pursued the wife: "he would 1 taking the bread from some poorer ma if he were to work." "Every young fellow who is worth h salt will have something useful to occi py his time," argued the judge. "Hun too much to do with the results of id! ness to admire it" "And you compare the son of a mil ionaire to the criminal classes you ha* to do with professionally-idle pickpocl eta, drunkards and the like? Possibl your strictures apply to women as wei seeing that you have to do with the re suits of idleness in women as well as i men." * "Every one should have some emploj ment, some-avocation." She took iiim up at that word. "I am glad you say avocation instea of vocation. ' For what Vocation ha Estelle? And as to her avocations, wha are they but those which you infer lea poorer girls away from the right? Sh is fond of gayety, dress; she likes ad miration; she" But the judge frowned. *1 wish you would not class on daughter with the women I see in th dock," be said. ".Then why should you. class Joni Elwyn with the men yon see in th dock?" demanded his wife. "Joh] has his horses, his coach, his stean yacht" "His London tailor, his several clubs his insufferable valet. " 'Exactly. But then all this is in ac cord with his life, from his cradle down His father worked hard that this sort o: thing might be brought ihout. " "Did he? His father worked hard, bu scarcely that he might have an idle son.' "Why do you work?" smilingly asi ec his wife, "ls it all for yourself alone! Do you not always think of idle Estelle when you have a success? have you not thought of her when you thought of the governorship, and that even higher hon ors to you would be pleasant for her? 1 hope to see you in the cabinet yet* The judge's countenance cleared, and he said lightly: "My dear, who can argue with a wom? an? Don't I know what all this means] Some evening this study door will open and Estelle will come in with hali frightened eyes and throw her anni around you. You will say *Is Mr. El? wyn gone?' and her only answer will be to kiss you-you, mind, for I shall not be thought of just then, or thought of a little shyly: and will I understand? Yes, I think so, and-weill well! I suppose I may be a little hard on young Elwyn maybe every father questions the life and proclivities of the young fellows who cut after the daughters. But, go? ing back to first principles, I don't like idleness. The arrogance of idleness is something appalling. Young Elwyn in time will show Estelle how superior he is to her father, because he did not come from the country a poor boy while her father did." His wife did not like this reverting to the first principles of his own life, though she said that a self made man was an American honor. "Not in the eyes of young men whose fathers make fortunes for them," re? torted the judge. The lady was still less pleased. 'Judge," she said, "you are evidently ruled by what you have written to-night -your decision in the Dunlap affair" the case of a bookkeeper accused of hypothecating a large sum of his em? ployer's money. "That man was not an idler; he is said to have been indefatiga? ble in business, and yet he became a thief. Your experience with the crim? inal class makes you doubtful of every other class. I call that a perversion of mind. The next thing you will be hav? ing grave suspicions of me." The judge made a smiling rejoinder such as a husband may venture with hi3 wife, and turned again to his writing. The blazing logs crackled, the wife gazed into the flare, her face lighted with an inward as well as an outward radiance. Had she not for several months been desirous of just such a re? sult as she hoped would soon come about? She would 3-et, she was con? vinced, see her only child the wife of the heir to millions, a woman at the height of social matters, an authority and the envy of other women. She could appre? ciate it to the fullest, for she had long, long ago, against the sage advice ard the warning of friends, married a strug? gling lawyer in whom she saw what he had since with her assistance developed. She gave herself some of the credit of her husband's success in life. She had made him a study from the beginning, gauging his weak points as she gauged his strong, tutoring those and guarding these, till he understood himself and sav what she had ever tactfully, kindly and appreciatively impressed upon him-his duty to himself, her and their child. This duty was to make of himself al] that it was possible to make, to scale dizzy heights;, and one of these, heights was about to be attained when his namo was associated in all honorable merit and deserving with the highest office of the state. Surely he owed his wife much, and she knew that he so reasoned. But she had never liked to hear him speak of his earlier days, when he had wandered, a poor country lad, away from "the soft eye music of slow waving bough?" into the cataclysm or* warring men, each de? termined to supplant his brother, not, like young Whittington having the ac? claim of bells, but earnestly hopeful of making his way, and so the lady looked into the flare and thought The fire crackled and flashed up to the pictured eyes that looked down upon the .judge; from outside came the subdued rattle of a city night; a boy parsed by the house shrilly whistling. The judge wrote. In the strokes of his pen, word by word, letter by letter, he reasoned against a life gone wrong, a mind that had digged beneath the ordinary in guilt, while an equal effort in an oppo? site direction might have won the ad? miration of healthful reasoning. But had it been premeditation? Had it not been a moment of temptation? And who is beyond temptation, though of divinity a man be not tempted beyond what he is able to resist? The case was one of peculiar interest to the judge; his decision would be criti? cally examined. Just now, with the governorship in the perspective, even more than his enemies would grasp at any flaw, the merest technicality, to prove the feasibility of higher honors for him. If ho were lenient he might bo ac? cused of weakness; if he were as severe as the flagrant crime might make thc ordinary man who espoused the cansa of I an outraged business community, it might be argued that a judge should bo a principle, ?ever an individual. So he must be careful, exact, having before him nothing but the cold facts of j the case; bo an impartial, soulless arbiter of the evidence deduced in the trial. From the room beyond came the acute tones of a piano. A little prelude was played, and then a clear, girlish voice broke into song. It was a tender little ballad which the daughter of the house sang to the man who sought to win her. j In thc study the mother of the daugh? ter of the house, her gaze upon the fhvre of the fire, thought of the success to be achieved by the daughter, as she had ever thoughtof the success to be achieved by the father of that daughter. In the study the judge penned his de-1 cisi?n condemnatory of a man not so . many years older than the lover of the ' daughter, with mean advantages, great temptations and an activity to be depre- j cated, as was the passivity of the other j man. The song floated into the study, plaint ive and aching, unsatisfied as all music is. Did the judge hear it as he wrote his decision? Did his wife hear it as she dreamed her ambitious dreams? CHAPTER IL "Do yon irani to marry mc?" Dunlap! That was the accused man's name. The name was ordinary, there are many Dunlape in many cities. Yet for all that, from the beginning of the case, the name had developed a certain train of reminiscences in the mind of the judge. He had spoken to-night to his wife of the time when he had come, a poor boy, from the country. Had tho name so often heard in court for a week past, so often written in the papers under his band, called forth that allusion to his boyhood? Which of us can tell what it is that leads our minds back to long un? remembered days, to incidents for years relegated to oblivion? Is it that strain of a tune from the strident hand organ DU the pavement, the dip of a bird's wing in the spring blue, the caught np word from a passer by-what is it? When he was a boy in the country, orphaned, neglected, there was a little girl he had played with-Salome. When he was 16, with a thought of the city, and looked down at his gnarled hands, that little girl had encouraged him. When he said he must leave old associ? ations and go out into thc battle of striv? ing millions, that little girl had a smile on her lips, but a tear in her eye-for she had been his companion so long, he had governed her thoughts so long, that she could not realize life without him. But he kissed her, and went to town to feel himself a tossed about atom no one noticed, and dreamed of her and missed her, and wished for her companionship When he found employment and had a miserable room for a home, he one day went to that home, and there was Sa? lome. After all. he was not so glad to see her. "Grandmother's dead," she said, in a sort of triumph, "and there's nobody to keep me away. Tve come to stay." But this could not be, and so he told her, and she hang her head. The woman "of the house was ap? pealed to, and Salome went out to serv? ice, her half days of weekly outing al? ways taking her where she could see her sole friend. When he was 18 he was pounding parchment in an attorney's ofiR^e. 'T3o a lawyer," she said, and he blushed with vanity. "Maybe you H bea judge," she said, dilating, and hu laughed at her. "The president," cried she in glee. But he did read la;v, and began to find that Salome was beneath him. She may have understood, for she left the kitchen for the factory, and took to read? ing inflammatory literature. Yet her as? sociations were not as his-how could they be? She knew flannting girls, her every day co-workers: he saw well dressed serious men every day of his life. She knew few mles of syntax, while he was daily studying the faults of his tongue. He felt his superiority, but argued that it would be crnel to show her that he did. He tried not to see so much of her, and it puzzled him that this irritated him, the more so that she made no effort to see him. One day he met her when he had not seen her for weeks, and was resol', ing to look her up. There was a young, florid? ly dressed man with her. She was cool and qniet, and how pr?t- j ty she looked to the eyes that had missed ? her these weeks! Tho lawyer's clerk knew that he had made her realize their relative positions. She introduced the stranger, calling him with an accent, "Mister Dunlap." He who was to be a judge experienced another pang and con? siderable contempt for Mr. Duniap. He ; was angry with her too, and after a few j words left the couple, conscious that the gaudily attired fellow laughed at the shabby professional struggler. After a few days of vague restlessness he told 1 himself in a fit of inspiration that it was his duty to go to Salome and expostu? late with her for associating with people who were not good enough for her. "Von mean Dunlap," she said quietly. "Why ain't he good enough for rae?" "He is vulgar, loud in dress," an- ! swered the poor lawyer's clerk, in a mean coat and leaky boots, "and he has no education." "Neither have I." she retorted. "So that don't make any inferiority." "I believe you'll marry him," he burst out. "Ho has asked me to," sadd she. "And you will marry him?" "Do you want to marry me?" They looked into each other's eyes, and he, whipping himself into a fury, tried to make himself believe that she had treated Ima badly, while his conscience told him 1 hat thc bad treatment had all been on Iiis hide, and that his neglect and ill nsa.^e had driven her to assert herself in the only way she knew of. "Marry him for all Icare," lie shout? ed and left her. He had never seerj her from that day to this. Ile did not know if she bad married; he ouly knew that he never came across her. At first this silence irritate*! him. but he was not the one to give in. Let her come to him, but he would not go to her to see blame in her eyes, and by seeking her make, that blame righteous. Then he went deeper into his work grew emulative of the men around him. Ee refused to think of Salome, and dreamed of her at night. When he was thirty and over, with a small clientele, he met the lady he mar? ried two years later. Ker social position was irreproachable; she was companion? able, sympathetic, even tempered and wealthy. His married life had been phenomenally calm, and the daughter that had been born was his idol. No wife could have been better and truer than his had been; no woman could have more carefully brought out of a man the good that was in him. There was not a moment when he might re? gret any step he hal taken since his marriage. Before that? Well, scarcely regret. He had done his share of foolishness; but then "the man who has never been a fool be sure will never be a wise man." Still, association is much, and when a man is 50 years of ago he may be said to have reached his perihelion, and will look behind him at the path up which he has come. Men of 50 having made a success t?f life, earned the acclaim of the world, nicely provided with the goods of the gods, not unfrequently in? cluding a "lovely Thais," often think of the lowly home of their childhood, which has been anything but a refresh? ing memory while ambition beckoned from the heights; frowsy boys will be affectionately remembered, extravagant reminiscences will begin, monuments in native towns will b? thought of, and a tender desire to lie at last in the humbie coolness of the green old churchyard beside the perhaps neglected mother and father. The judge was past 50 years of age. There was a life his wifo knew little of; a life his wife and child would smile at if they knew of it. His fingers were white now and soft, no longer gnarled from hard manual labor, and his tongue volubly took up the language and made it sonorous or simple as he willed. Was it vanity that now and then made him wonder if there were people in that village who recognized in the "puisne" judge the hard scrabble boy of long ago? Did the place look as it used to? Why, he believed, he was sure, he knew every foot of the ground, could find all the old landmarks even now. And then the little girl of that far off time! It had been calf love, to bo sure, but, let him acknowledge it or not, he had loved her as he had loved no one since. For had he gained anothe* love like, hers? Had he not loved her when she stood before him and asked him if he wished to mar? ry her? Had he not so wished? Had he What nonsense! It had all been boy? ishness, veritable childishness. She was probably a grandmother by this time, the consort of Mr. Dunlap. Dunlap! Had the name of the accused man whose case had been before him this week led to these reminiscences? What would his wife say if she knew what was passing in his mind? Yet did ho know what was passing in her mind? Had she thoughts he never dreamed of, tender thoughts of the young love that is last forgot? He glanced at her as she sat there in the amplitude of her mature charms and magnificence of apparel, her still fine eyes bent upon the flare. No, her life had no episode in it of which he was ignorant, of that he was assured. How well she looked as she thought-very likely of Estella and Elwyn. And he had deprecated El wyn S Had that young man ever treated any one as he had ?seated that young country thing years K;;O? Had the man whose case had made Iiis evening's writing ever so treated a giri? "Judge thyself!" came the ad? monition. He heard Estelle singing; hi3 wife's diamonds flashed in his eyes, the scraps relating to himself which she had cut from the evening papers were in his wife's hand-she would pasto those scraps in the book where she kept every reference the papers made to him, whether they were complimentary or not, and studied them together, and thus obtained the world's estimate of him and found his safe way to fresh ad? vancement. "Do you want to marry mer No, no; he could not have married the girl, she being as she was, and he hoping to be what he had since become-thanks to his wife's strength that made his. And yet who had sent him from the country? Who had told him to be a lawyer, a judge? Well, he went on with his writing, mistily hearing the music in the room beyond; mistily conscious that his wife now and then changed her position, but never took her eyes from the fire. Now, was this man Dunlap a hardened criminal? In the given evidence there was nothing against his former life. He had voluntarily confessed to taking the moue}", and confessed without a tremor, looking his deceived employers in the face with calm assurance, as though de? spite his downfall and disgrace there was something that kept him up. Peo? ple might say he was sustained by the fact that he had safely put away the stolen money and, young yet, w->uld en? joy it after thc term of his incarceration. "Every man has his price," these pes? simists would argue, and it was worth a few years in a prison cell with the mod err conveniences for what miglvt be en? joyed afterward. Disgrace? The world is wide and money is an open sesame to much that makes life worth living. Conscience? What is conscience in these days of Pluto and the veneration of the kings of stock speculation? Ultimate accountability? Old men join church when pleasure has ceased to allure, and are sincere in the belief that "there is more joy in heaven over one repentant sinner than over ninety and nine just persons," etc., etc. No clew to tho money, no reproach of the trust reposed in him, no promise of leniency could get the slightest hint or lie from the man. What power upheld him? The judg- knew that men consid? ered strongest aro often weakest and sustained by a force not their own. Was not his wife his own strength, his love i fur his daughter secondary to that? So! he wrote and thought, and cited cases j supposed to be analogous to the one in j hand, the simplicity of which making j th?' matter all thc* more difficult. Was j thc man guilty? The confession of an ; accused man is not always to l>e taken on trust, even when the confession is self convicting. There was the case of Blank, etc. And he consulted the sneep skin volumes and wrote. CHAPTER III. All at once there came a low knock on the study door. His wife roused herself, and with a little easeful sigh turned from the fire. "How sweetly Estelle is singing to? night !" she said. Then in a raised ! threw tfie roll of notes upon thc blazing coals. voice she called aloud, "Come in!" The door opened, the music from the other room gushed in, and a white capped j maid entered and went up to her mis? tress and said some words in a low tone of voice. "You know. Catharine," said the lady, "that I am trying to put a stop to this." "I know, ma'am," returned the maid, "but she looked so fagged out I couldn't be snappish to her." Maybe the judge's reflections as to his younger life caused him to fee; that he j owed his wife a little more than usual. He looked up. "What is itr he asked, "Anything I can do for you, my dear?** "It is one of those tiresome women come to speak with you," his wife answered wearily. "Must the mothers and wives and ail the female relatives of the men you try come to ask your clemency for the accused ones? Why should people be so preposterous? A jury are the judges of the facts; a judge has nothing to do with conviction." "You are a good lawyer," smiled the judge, gathering np his loose papers, "and like most women you are against your own sex. You don't say a word about the men who como here." "These women irritate me," she went on. "The criminal class appears to sin? gle out the houses of judges. I suppose they argue that personal appeals will I lighten sentences about to be imposed. I believe some of the women who bother us borrow the babies they bring with them; a baby is supposed to BO a most pathetic adjunct to an appeal. Do you remember that old toothless ono who came here with twins in long clothes?" "Then the wife and baby of an accused ?nan are down stairs?" "His mother, sir," ventured Catharine. "And without a baby." "Well, I suppose I shall have to see her," said the judge's wife. "It is fhe mother of the man whose case you are engaged on." "What man?" "Dunlap." Again the name of the man may have influenced the judge. As his wife arose from her chair he said: "My dear, perhaps you had better slip on a shawl. Your diamonds, your gay dress-they aro such a contrast to the woman you will see." "Nonsense!" shs said, "nonsense!" "And, Catharine," said the judge, as the music in the adjoining room became more brilliant, with a man's voice added to it, "tell Miss Estelle I should like to see her." His wife gave him a quick glance be? fore sailing from the study, her velvet train swishing a yard behind her, and cautiously followed by Catharine. Then the music stoppe:! abruptly, there was a light movement outside tho door, and twenty year.i of blondness and beauty entered the study, a good many tinkling ornaments jingling as she came along. "Papa," she said, "you sent for me?" "Sweetheart," said the judge, "I should like you to interrupt your con? cert for a few minutes. There is a poor woman down stairs, the mother of a man I am trying, and the music, our cheerfulness" "Oh, you sensitive papa, your was the merry interruption. "Is that all you wanted me for?" "That is all." "Then I will go back to Mr. Elwyn do you hear him picking out a tune on the piano? He says he only knows two tunes; the one is 'God Save the Queen,' and the other isn't. Did you ever hear that before? And-papa, ho is all alone in there." "And I am all alone in here." She looked at him, and the color rushed to her face. "What do you mean?" she said. "There's a difference." The judge leaned back in his chair and regarded her. "Surely there's a difference," he said slowly; "surely there's a difference, j Come here!" She went around to him, putting ber ? arms about his neck. "Kiss me," he said, "my daughter." So she placed her rosy face up against1 his, the faint perfume exhaled by her garments, her tinkling beads and ban? gles almost as a parenthesis in the caress. "Now go back to the lonely young man," said the jndge, gently pushing her from bim. "Surely there's a differ? ence." But she kissed him once again and | smoothed his face a little before she I gayly left him, and he waited, listening : for the last faint jingle of her ornaments, i "Surely there's a difference," he said softly. He picked np the papers he had written that evening, made a roll of them and slipped a rubber ban ? over all. With this baton he tapped upon the table, thinking of, the letter he had yet ; to write before going to bed-thc letter j regarding his coming nomination for governor. Surely there was a differ- ; ence, as Estelle had said, but surely the father owed his daughter this new honor j despite the difference between his lone- | liness and that of her lover. The governorship-and after that! He looked up at the limning of a face on the wall-Webster! The cabinet! His wife had said it! Suddenly there came tho sweep of the velvet robe, and his wife entered the room. "The woman appeals to me," she said. "She wishes to see you. What you said to me regarding my dress as I went down to her maybe rebuked nie. for 1 could not turn her away. Will yon see her? She looks sensible." The judge recalled himself. "I can do little for her," he responded with an air of resignation. "But so long as you have told her you would get my 'yes' or 'no' I suppose I mast prepare myself for a bad (piarter of an hour. , Let her como np." His wife left the room. She called "Catharine." gave a low order and passed by the study door to the room where the daughter kept the young man from be? ing lonely. There was a laboring up the stairs, the touch of garments on the wall, and in the doorway stood a woman. The prisoner's dock, the witness sta,nd. may be supposed to bold pale faces, but tl judge had never before looked upon face so utterly devoid of color as th woman's, framed by gray hair and dim] illumined by faded eyes. Perhaps tl regularity of the features, the fine ou line and the immobility of the expre sion tended to accentuate the absence < coloring ia the epidermis as much as tl dun colored gown and bonnet the woma wore. At the first glance he had of h< the judge thought of a splendid iniagi cut into sard which was among his wife jewels. Then tbs woman s eyes were fixed o his. She stood on tho threshold for a instant before she glided over into tl room and closed the door behind he When she spoke the passionless qnalil of her voice was as though that were als decolored. "Your vrife mistook me for Han Dunlap's mother," she said, "and I di not correct her. I am his aunt-he is tl son of my husband's brother. I came i regard to his case. I wish to learn if e: tenuating circumstances may not tend 1 lessen the term of his imprisonmen The missing money is a large amoun he was a trusted bookkeeper, and the bi trayal of tliat trust makes the offense a the more heinous." She put her hand to her throat t though there was an obstruction then Then she went on in her dull voice: "The reputation which you bear fe integrity, the confidence the communit places in you, the applause of the papei over a future honor likely to be vom actuated me to come to you with the n citai of that part of my nephew's eas which the trial failed to bring out." Her eyes had drifted around the roor. as she last spoke, as though she cort pared the comfort there with somethin that she knew, and now they rested o the portrait of the judge's wife in all ii beamy and idealization. Her profile wa toward the judge, and whatever doub he might have had before was dissipated and he uttet-ed her name. "Yes," she said, turning to him; "ye? for all the change you recognize me. knew that you would. Now listen t< me. I know that you regard the crim of which my nephew is accused ver sternly; there has been too much wron? doing by trusted men, and leniency would almost amount to complicity." Again her hand went up to her throa and pressed there. "As I say, this mau is my nephew, have never had any children. His pai ents were dead when I marri eil his un cle. He came to me a mere infant, an< loved me as his mother. My marrie< life was not happy, as I knew it coal? not be, for I never loved my h?sband who loved me and knew how I regarde* him. I wronged him in marrying him my carelessness of his regard for m< only tendod to develop in him trait which a wife's affection might hav< eradicated. Kis nephew was ever}*thini to me; his innocent love kept me fron despair when my husband went wron? time and time again-for which wrons I blamed mvself, seeing that he caree deeply for me while he was of small ac? count to me. All women cannot lov< because they are loved. My husband be came a gambler, a drunkard. He ill treated me, and my nephew protected me as a son might protect his mother You will not need to hear details you know many a similar story ir your professional experience. This money, which my nephew is accused ol stealing, was in his care. He had taker a half holiday that he might consult au oculist regarding his eyes, which close application to his duties had impaired. He volunteered to deposit in bank a large sum of money paid that day to his firm. First, though, he went to his oculist. He was detained longer than he had expected to be: it was after 3 o'clock, and the bank was closed. Ile did not return tho money to tho firm, but brought it home with him, deter? mining to take it back with him in the morning. He never took it back with him. He aclraowledged that he stole it. and despite all promises, despite legal acumen, he has not divulged where it is or what he did with it. Why? Because he does not know where it is-because he never stole it. He put the roll of bank notes nader his pillow that night: in the morning it was gone. He believes that his uncle, the gambler, the drunk? ard, took it. ' He accepted the shaine in order to shield rae; his great, unbounded son's love weald do that for me, for he thought the last blow 1 could stand would be to know that 1 had made my husband a common thief, as I had always said that through my not loving him I was morally responsi? ble for his faults. But my husband did not take the money! He knew that it was in the house and he coveted it. Thus in the night I went to my neph? ew's room and took the roll of bank notes from under his pillow to put them in a place of safety. As I left the room a hand grasped ray arm: my husband had come for the money and discovered what I had dune. He led me down' stairs and there he demanded the money. All the hatred that was in me assorted itself, and I sriid hot words to him. Ile struck me, ard he had never struck mo before. The fire was burning in the stove: I threw tho roll of notes upon tho blazing coals. 'Now,' I said, 'proclaim me a thief. Give me a prison cell: it will be heaven to any further lifo with you.' But he faced me smiling. 41 will do more than that.' he said. 'My wife shall never bc called a thief: Henry shall be accused of the theft, and I dare yon to enlighten him as to the truth.' lt was so; his revenge on me was com? plete. I would not, indeed. d.*.re to tell my dear boy, for he loves me, and he has idealized mo into a mar- j tyr, a saint. I am all that he has in tho world; to make me less than 1 he thinks I am would min his be- i lief in heaven itself, and in mo who : have only him and his faith in me to 1 carry me through my wasted life. Ho is glad to sacrifice himself for mo. Ho ; will come forth from prison a strong : man. and we can go somewhere whoro we are unknown, and he can begin lifo , all over again. But if he knows the truth will he not think rae a creature who loved him and his fair name not so much as I loved thc idea of thwarting my hus? band, whase blighted lifo was all my faull? My husband ha?, been drinking hard since this affair, and today he died. The papers aro full <>f your praise. Among other things they say you have the distinction of never having had a decision of yours reversed by the higher court. I wish you to reverse thc decision you have made in this case. Now you know why I am here. Do you believe that 1 am telling you the truth?" Believe her! CHAPTER IV. Tho judge net .sx^fcen since she entered the room exec-pi to whisper her name. Every word she said smote bim: his long experience had given him many instances of women wronged by men. Here was a worn**T a? dce^v TITO*?wi by a man as she co'dd bo-and the man was? himself. All that she was he had t^^, ^ ^^^^^^ ^ j SfcC fci? ?7:e tOttCfc of Z/ps.. made ber; the wreck of all that should? [ have made her other than she was; her [ wretched married life, her husband's j downfall, her nephew's disgrace, her' I own torture that should last as long as she-he had done it all. What misery i of soul had been hers since that da/ I when she had stood before him and j asked him if he wished to marry her? Her love for him had made this ruin I and he had loved her and wronged her" love. She ha/1 always been fair to look upon: she would have been beautiful j with other environmen-.s than had been hers, more beautiful than his wife; the education she had gleaned somehow or other, lier digurty cf speech, could not he himself have brought it about and molded her into a brilliant woman? Sho had loved him, and her love for him had1 wrecked her and all those nearest her. Did his wife love him? Had not anibi don, rather than passionate affection., brought her to him; had not ambition, rather thnn the maternal feeling cf this ; woman for her nephew, made Ms wife anxious for this match between Estelle [ and John Elwyn? Believe her! To doubt her would have been to exculpate himself. Believe her! Though the woman watching him may have thought him only cold and callous, "What!" she cried. "Do you hesitate? Do yon feel that nothing is my due? Have I not sufficiently accused you?" With a despairing gesture she threw herself at his feet. Believe her! "No, no," she said pleadingly, "I do not acense yon-you are innocent, the whole world is innocent, only I am not. I came to you because I am not quite dead, and the affection that made you its idol holds to this child of my adoption with all the tenacity that availed it sc* little of old. I loved you once, and that should be something to you. I ask for something for my dear boy, as I ask yon to screen me for his sake from justice. Will there not be sufficient punishment for me when it is always before me that I send him to prison and inuit withhold the truth from him? I-I"- She could say no more. She kneeled there with uplifted pallid faca And the judge! .'Salome!" lie said-nothing more. Bu* the agony, ihe remorse, the grief in that word were apparent to her who heard. She looked at him, her life surely con? centrated in that look. Then she rose to her feet and tottered, and he pur out his ann to support her. "Oh, Saf?me! Salome!" he said. He h^ld her thus a little while, and from the adjoining room came the low murmur of happy voices, while from the wall looked down upon him the pictured eyes of his wife. The face of the woman he held had u:; lergone a strange altera? tion. What years cf privation and re? pression had wrought still remained there, but it was as though a soft light had flooded down over brow and eyes. She disengaged herself from him, and he took the roll of papers he had written: that evening, crushing it i:i his hand. "To-morrow," he said, "I place in the hands of your nephew's employers th9 amount of the money that ii missing. My word will be taken for whatever f shall .say. And-I will. have the sen? tencing of your nephew! 1 can say no more." .He will know the truth." she cried in sudden terror; "my bbv will know what 1 did." "V. .ien yon te!! him." 'And you say that you will have the sentencing of him. You mean that you will make his sentence light?" "Yes-the lightest." 'Do you know that people will blame you for that? They will call you un? just: and then there is your chance of being governor; maj not that be weak? ened by what you would do?" She still thought of him and his wel? fare despite her own great pain. His eyes were looking into hers, his face came nearer her wan cheek: she heard his troubled breathing. :iail then sho felt the touch of lips she had not felt since she was a young, passionate girl. .* Robert!" she said softly, and he put his hands np over his eyes and knew that she went from him. without an? other word, without another look. Half an hour later the judge's wife rustled into the study. S:ie was radiant. "Asleep?" she said brightly, going to the table where her husband sat. "Thea wake np and let me tell you how glad i arri that Dunlap woman came when she did. For when 1 went to Estelle and John they h i X been having a little tiff, which I quickly patched up. and tho reconciliation, as all reconciliations will do. led to far greater tenderness than before. John will spe?k to j*on to? morrow, and Estelle is in the seventh heaven. "Why," she said ;is he raised his face, "how old yon look. It is all that Dunlap case, and" "Will you leave me?" he said in a dominating tone of voice hitherto un? known to her. "Mercy!" she smile;! "Yo i ar? angry because 1 helped to expedite matters a little with Estelle and John?" "I am not angry." said thc judge. "But 1 should like to be alone, l-l have a troublesome matter to think of." She leane; 1 over anti put her lips to her husband's forehead "I had forgotten your letter to Gen. Wayne in regard to the nomination," she said. "I am so happy on account of Estelle and John that I forget every? thing. Go on, my dear: apr?s moi le delude-after the capital of the state, the cabinet, governorV She went from the room humming. In the room beyond the music was re? sumed: from outside came the jingle of a car bell. The pictured eyes of justly celebrated men-had lhere been no ro? mance in the lives cf thosemen?-Iooke 1 down as asking the occupa:!t of tao room by what right he should assume the prerogative of the higher position wTered him. while the eyes cf his wife demanded by what rigor he should re? fuse any prerogative offered him. B:;t the judge Heeded no fancied question, heeded "no question he himself might have asked He sat lhere motionless, while the v- i re of his daughter sang a song cf love nd i ruth Co thc mau v-iv> loved anJ. trudie I her. TEE LNi>.