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Tmm suMTKB watchman, K?t?bu*i??d Aprii, 185?. "Be Just and Fear not?Let all the Ends thou Aims't at, be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's." the tkdk southron, Egtabiiehed June, 1266 Consolidated Aug. 2,1881. SUMTER, S. C, WEDNESDAY, JULY 25, 1894. New Series?Vol. XUJ. No. 51. C?)t titilara w? Seafljrrai . . . ~j .... ^.. Published Svery Wednesday, -S- C terms : Two Dollars per annum?io advance. 0?e*Marig 6|at ?^M^^r-'-S* <><> Broy WoSwjuent iSWt?oh~~..p ... .... 50 Contrae* t?t three mombs, or longer will be made at reduced r?tei. '"* 11 communications which subserve private interests will becbarged as advertisements. Ob?t?aries "and tributes of respect will be charged for., IZi Special ? ni <f : For the remainder of the year. THE WATCHMAN.?.?. and >N Will be sent to any Jan'y 1, 1895, FOR T5 Cents* CASH IN ADVANCE, This offer is made ^as ? sp?cii? induce ment. We are go ing to double our subscrip t i list within the next few months and we want the name of I every ;"man, who * wishes to keep up witb the times, on our subscription list. The Watchman and Southron is the biggest, best and newsiest paper pub lished in this section of the State, and it should go into every household. Efgjht pages of all hornet print* matter 6Vvf pe 11 Clubbing rates with all Agri cultural Journals, Literary Pe riodicals and Leading Metro politan Weeklies. This extra special four-page edition has been scattered broadcast throughout Sumter and adjoining counties so that those who ?re not subscribers may be made acquainted with this special offer. The Watchman and Southron wants a reliable Agent at e my Post Office in Sumter and adjoioiog counties. A liberal commission paid. Write for terms. COPYRIGHT. M*3, ? TMS AUTHOR. ? Know , Master Thomas," he an swered in his Norfolk talk, which I will not eet down. "Half way to wheresoever he was going, I should say, measured by the pace at which he left when once I had sat him trpon his horse. Lawks, but he was glad to be gone! How he did gallop!" "Now, you are a bigger fool even than I thought you, Billy Minns," I said in an ger.' ''That man- would have murdered : me. I overcame him and made him fast, I and you hove let him go. " ' would have murdered you, master, and you made him fast! Well, he's gone, land this alone is left of him." And he spun the piece into the air. : _lXow. seeing, that there,, was, reason in, Billy's" talk, for the fault" was* mine", I turned away without more words, not straight homeward, for I wished to think alone awhile on all that had come about between me and Lily and her father, but down the way which runs across the lane to the crest of the Vineyard hills. These hills are clothed with underwood, in which large oaks grow to within some 200 yards of this house where I write, and this un derwood is pierced bypaths that my moth er laid out, for she loved to walk here. One of these paths runs along the bottom of the hill by the edge of the pleasant river Waveney and the other a hundred feet or more above and near the crest of the slope,"or, to speak more plainly, there is but one path, shaped like the letter 0, placed longitudinally, the curved ends of the letter marking how the path' turns upoiith? fifils?d?. Now^ I struck the path at the end that is farthest from this house and followed that half of it which runs" down by ?he river bank, having the water on ?ac sido of it and the brushwood upon the other. Along: this lower path I wandered, my eyes fixed upon the ground, thinking deep ly as I. went, now of the joy of Lily's lovo and now of the sorrow of our parting and of her father's wrath, and my eyes -fell upon footprints in the wet sand of the path. One of them was my mother's. I could have sworn to it among a thousand, for no other woman in these parts had so delicate a foot. Close to it, as though fol lowing after, was another that at first I thought must also have been made by a woman?it was so narrow. But presently I saw that this could scarcely be, because of its length, and, moreover, that the boot which left it was like none that I knew, being cut very high at the instep and very pointed at the toe. Then of a sudden it came upon me that the Spanish stranger wore such boots, for I had noted them while I talked with him, and that his feet were following those of my mother, for they had trodden on her track, and in some places his alone had stamped their impress on the sand, blot ting out her footprints. Here they were mixed one with another, as though the two had stood close togeth sr, moving now this way and now that in struggle. I looked up the path, but there were none. Then. I cast round about like a beagle, first along the river side, then up the bank. Here they were again, and made by feet that flew and feet that fol lowed. Up the bank they went 50 yards and more, now lost where the turf was sound, now seen in sand or loam, till they led to the bole of a big oak and were once more mixed together, for here the pursuer had come up with the pursued. Despairingly as one who dreams, for now I guessed all and grew mad with fear, I looked this way and that; till at length I found more footsteps?those of the Span iard. These were deep marked, as of a man who carried somo heavy burden. I followed them. T?tz? they went down the hill toward the "^iver, then turned aside to a spot when, the brushwood was thick In the deepest of the clump the boughs, now bursting into leaf, were bent down ward as though to hide something beneath. I wrenched them aside, and there, gleam ing whftely in the gathering twilight, was the dead face of my mother] ;?: GHAP3EER M . THOMAS SWEABS AX OATH. For awhile stood amazed t?ith horror, staring down at the dead face of my be loved mother. Then I stooped to lift her and saw that she had been slabbed, and through the.breast?stabbed' with tho sword vrhich I carried in. my hand. Now I urii?HBstood. This .was the work of that Spanish' stranger whom I had met as he hume^.rf^om. the placeof murder, who, becauseOf the wickedness of his heart For awhile I stood amazed with horror. or for some secret reason, had striven to slay mo also when ho learned that I was my mother's son. And I had held this devil in my j>owcr, and that I might meet my May I had suffered him to escape my vengeance, whereas had I known the truth I would have dealt with him as the priests of Anahuac deal with tho victims of their gods. I understood and shed tears of pity, rage and shame. Then I turned and fled homeward like one mad. At the doorway I met my father and my brother Geoffrey riding up from Bungay market, and there was that written on my face which caused them to ask as with ono voice: "What evil thing has happened?" Thrice I looked at my father Tjcfore I could speak, fo? I feared lest the blow should killL.hbn.._Butspeak I mustatjast, though I chose thai it slioulu "be to (j'c?f frey, my brother. 4 * Our mother lies mur dered yonder on the Vineyard hilL A Spanish man has done the deed. Juan do Garcia by name. " When my father heard these words, his face became livid as though with pain of the heart, his jaw fell, and a low moan issued from his open mouth. Presently he rested his hand upon the pommel of the saddle, and lifting his ghastly face he said: *'Where is this Spaniard? Have you killed him?" "No, father. He chanced upon me in Grubswell, and when he learned my name he would have murdered me. But I played quarter staff with him and beat him to a pulp, taking his sword. " "Aye, and then?" 41 And then I let him go, knowing noth ing of the deed he had already wrought upon our . mother. Afterward I will tell youalL" "You let him go. son? You let Jean do Garcia go! Then, Thomas, may the curse of God zest upon you till you find him and finish that which you began today." "Spare to curse me, father, who am ac cursed by my own conscience. Turn your horses rather and ride for Yarmouth, for there his ship lies, and thither he has gone with two hours* start. Perhaps you may still trap him before he sets sail. " Without another word my father and brother wheeled their horses round and de parted at full gallop into the gloom of the gathering night. They rode so fiercely that, their horses being good, they came to the gates of Yar mouth in little more than 1)4 hours, and that is fast riding. But the bird w?? flown. They tracked him to the quay and foun^^ha^Jia-had, shipped awhile before In a boat which was in: waiting- Ibr" Mm and passed to his vessel, which lay in the roads at anchor, but with the most of her canvas set Instantly she sailed and now was lost in the night. Then my. father caused notice to be given that he would pay a reward of 200 pieces in gold to any ehip that would capture the Spaniard, and two started on the quest, but they did not find her that before morning was far on her way across the sea. At length the morning came, and with it my father and brother, who returned from Yarmouth on hired. horses, for their own were spent. In the afternoon als? news followed them that the ships which had put to sea on the track , of the Span iard had been driven back by bad weather, havinjLseen nothing of him. "2??w x TO?a ?il the story of my dealings with the murderer of my mother, keeping nothing back, and I must bear my father's bitter anger because,, knowing that my mother was in dread of a Spaniard, I hod suffered my reason to be led astray by my desire to win speech with my love. Nor did I meet-with any comfort from my brother Geoffrey, who was fierce against me because he learned that I hod not pleaded in vain with the maid whom he desired for himself. But he said nothing of this reason; also that no drop might be lacking in my cup, Squire Bozard, who came with many other neighbors to view the corpse and offer sympathy with my fa ther in his loss, told him at the same time that he took it ill that I should woo his daughter against his wish, and that if I continued in this course it would strain their ancient friendship. Thus I was hit on every side, by sorrow for my mother whom I hod loved tenderly, by longing for my dear whom I might not see, by self reproach because I had let the Spaniard go when I held him fast, and by the anger of my father and my brother. Indeed those days were so dark and bitter, for I was at the age when shame and sorrow sting their sharpest, that I wished that I were dead beside my mother. One comfort reached me indeed, a message from Lily, sent by a servant girl whom she trusted, giving me her dear love and bidding me to be of good cheer. At length come the day of burial, and my mother, wrapped in fair white robes, was laid to rest in the chancel of the church at Ditchingham, where my father has long been set beside her, hard by the brass effigies that mark the burying place of Lily's forefather, his wife and many of their children. This funeral was the sad dest of sights, for the bitterness of my fa ther's grief broke from him in sobs, and my sister Mary swooned away in my arms. Indeed there were few dry eyes in all that church, for my mother, notwithstanding her foreign birth, was much loved because of her gentle ways and the goodness of her heart. But it came to an end. and the noble Spanish lady and English wife was left to her long sleep in the ancient church, where she shall rest on when her tragic story and her very name are forgotten among men. indeed this is likely to be soon, for I am the last of the Wingfields alive in theso parts, though my sister Mary has left descendants of another name, to whom my lands and fortune go except for certain gifts to the poor of Bungay and of Ditchingham. When it was over, I went back home. My father was sitting in the front room well nigh beside himself with grief, and by him was my brother. Presently he be gan to assail me with bitter words bccaiise I had let the murderer go when God gave him into my hand. ''You forget, father," sneered Geoffrey. "Thomas wcoes a.maid, aneli*; was more to him to hold her in his arms than to keep his mother's murderer safely. But by this it seems he has killed two birds with one stone?he has suffered the Spanish devil to escape when he knew our mother feared the coming of a Spaniard, and he has made enmitybetwoeh us and Squire Bozard, out good neighbor, who, strangely enough, does not favor his wooing. " "It is so," said my father. "Thomas, your mother's blood is on your hands. " I listened and could bear this goading injustice no longer. "It is false," I said. "I say it even to my father. The man had killed my moth er before I met him riding to seek his ship at Yarmouth and having lost his way. How then is her blood upon my hands? As for my. wooing of Lily Bozard, that is my matter, brother, and not yours, though perhaps you wish that it was yours and not mine. Why, father, did you not tell me what you feared of this Spaniard? I heard some loose talk only and gave little thought to it, my mind being full of other things. And now I will say something. You called down God's curse upon me, fa ther, till such time as I should find this murderer and finish what I had begun. So be it! Let God's curse rest upon mo till I do find him. I am young, but I am quick and strong, and so soon as may be I start for Spain to hunt him there till I shall run him down or know him to be dead. If you will give me money to help me on my quest, so be it?if not, I go with oiit^_ I swear before God^dbymy moth- ' ?f's spirit that Tw?T neither resr nor stay till, with the very sword that slew her, I have avenged her blood upon her murder er or know him dead, and if I suffer my self to be led astray from the purpose of this oath by aught that is, then may a worse end than hers overtake me, may my soul be rejected in heaven, and my name be shameful forever upon the earth!" Thus I swore in my rage and anguish, holding up my hand to heaven that I call ed upon to witness the oath. My father looked at me keenly. "If that is your mind, son Thomas, you shall not lack for money. I would go myself, for blood must be wiped out with blood, but I am too broken in my health; also I am known in Spain, and the holy office would claim me there. Go, and my bless ing go with you. It is right that you should go, for it is through your folly that our enemy has escaped us. " ''Yes, it is right that he should go," said Geoffrey. "You say that because you wish to be rid of me, Geoffrey," I answered hotly, uand you would be rid of me because you desire to take my place at the side of a certain maid. Follow your nature and do as you will, but if you would outwit an absent man no good shall come to you of it" "The girl is to him who can win her, " he said. "The girl's heart is won already, Geof frey. You may buy her from her father, but you can never win her heart, and with out a heart she will be but a poor prize." ''Peace! Now is no time for such talk of love and maids," said my father, "and listen. This is the tale of the Spanish mur derer and your mother. I have said noth ing of it heretofore, but now it must out: When I was a lad, it happened that I also went to Spain because my father willed it. "I went to a monastery at Seville, but I had no liking for monks and their ways, and I broke out from the monastery. For a year or more I made my living as best I might, for I feared to return to England as a runaway. Still I made a living, and not a bad one, now in this way and now in that, but, though I am ashamed to say it. mostly by gaming, at which I had great luck. One night I met this man Juan de Garcia?for in his hate he gave you his true name when he would have stabbed yon?at play. Even then he had an evil fame, though he was scarcely more than a lad, but he was. handsome in person, set high in birth and of a pleasing manner. It chanced that he won of me at the dice, and being in a good humor he took me to visit at the house of his aunt, his uncle's widow, a lady of Seville. This aunt had one child, a daughter, and that daughter was your mother. Now, your mother, Luisa de Garcia, was affianced to her cousin, Juan de Garcia, not with her own will indeed, for the contract had been signed when she was only 8 years old. Still it was binding ?more binding indeed than in this coun try, being a marriage in all except in fact. But those women who are thus bound for the most part bear no wife's love in their hearts, and so it was with your mother. Indeed she both hated and feared her cous in Juan, though I think that he loved her more than anything on earth, and by one pretext and another she contrived to bring him to an agreement that no marriage should be celebrated till she was full 20 years of age. But the colder she was to the more was he inflamed with desire to win her and also her possessions, which were not small, for like all Spaniards he was passionate and like most gamesters and men of evil life much in want of money. "Now, to be brief, from the first moment that your mother and I set eyes on each other we loved one another, and it was our one desire to meet as often as might be, and in this we had no great difficulty, for her mother also feared and hated Juan de Garcia, her' nephew by marriage, and would have seen her daughter clear of him if possible The end of it was that I told my love, and a plot was made between us that we should fly to England. But all this had not escaped the ears of Juan, who had spies in the household and was jealous and revengeful as only a Spaniard can be. First he tried to be rid of me by challenging me to a duel, but we were parted before we could draw swords. Then he hired bravos to murder me as I walked the streets at night, but I wore a chain shirt beneath my doublet, and their dag gers broke upon it, and in place of being slain I slew one of them Twice baffled, De Garcia was not defeated Fight and murder had failed, but another and surer means remained I know not how, but he had won some clew to the history of my life and of how I had broken out from the monastery. It was left to him, there fore, to denounce mc to the holy office as a renegade and an infidel, and this he did one night. It was the night before the day when we should have taken ship. I was sitting with your mother and her mother in their house at Seville when six cowled men entered and seized me without a word. When I prayed to know their purpose, they gave no other answer than to hold a cru cifix before my eyes. Then I knew why I was taken, and the women ceased cling ing to mo and fell back sobbing. Secretly and silently I was hurried away to the dungeons of the holy office, but of all that befell me there I will not stop to telL a Twice I was racked, once I was seared with hot irons, thrice I was flogged with wire whips, and all this while I was fed on food such as wo should scarcely offer a dog here in England At length, my of fense of having escaped from a monastery and sundry blasphemies, so called, being proved against me, I was condemned to death by fire. "Then at last, when after along year of torment and of horror I had abandoned hope and resigned myself to die, help came. Upon the eve of the day upon which I was to be consumed by flame the chief of my tormentors entered tho dungeon where I lay on straw, and embracing mc bade mo be of good cheer, for the church had tak en pity on my youth and given mo my freedom. At first I laughed wildly, for I thought that this was but another tor ment, and not till I was freed of my fet ters, clothed in decent garments and set at midnight without the prison gates would I believe that so good a thing had befallen me through the hand of God I stood, weak and wondering, outsido the gates, not knowing where to fly, and as I stood a woman glided up to me wrapped in a dark cloak, who whispered'Come.' That woman was your mother. Sho had learned of my fate from the boasting of De Garcia and set herself to save mc. Thrice her plans failed, but at length, through the help of some cunning agent, gold won what was denied to justice and to mercy, and my life and liberty wer<> bought with a very great sum. VThat same night we were married and fled for Cadiz, your motFer^ancT I7 but not ber mother, who was bedridden with a sickness. For my sake, your beloved mother abandoned her people, what re mained to her of her fortune after paying the price of my life, and her country, so strong is the love of woman. All had been made ready, for at Cadiz lay an English ship?the Mary of Bristol?in which pas sage was taken for us. But the Mary was delayed in port by a contrary wind, which blew so strongly that, notwithstanding his desire to save us, her master dared not take the sea. Two days and a night we lay in the harbor, fearing all things, not without cause, and yet most happy in each other's love. Now, those who had charge of me in the dungeon had given out that I had escaped by the help of my master the devil, and I was searched for through out the countryside. De Garcia also", find ing that his cousin and affianced wife was missing, guessed that we two were not far apart It was his cunning, sharpened by jealousy and hate, that dogged us down step by step till at length he found us. "On the morning of the third day, the gale having abated, the anchor of the Mary was got home, and she swung out into the tideway. As she came round and while the seamen were making ready to hoist the sails a boat carrying some 20 soldiers and followed by two other boats shot alongside and summoned the captain to heave to, that his ship might be boarded and searched under a warrant from the holy office. It chanced that I was on deck at the time, and suddenly, as I prepared to hide myself below, a man, in whom I knew De Garcia himself, stood up and called out that I was the escaped heretic whom they sought. Fearing lest his ship should be boarded and he himself thrown into prison with the rest of his crew, the captain would then have surrendered me. But I, desperate with fear, toro my clothes from my body and showed the cruel scars that marked it " * You are an Englishman,' I cried to the sailor, 'and will you deliver me to those foreign devils who am of your blood? Look at their handiwork. ' And I pointed to the half healed scars left by the redhot pinchers. 'If you give me up, you send me back to more of this torment and to death by burning. Pity my wife if yon will not pity me, or if you will pity neither then lend me a sword that by death I may save myself from torture.' "Then one of the seamen, a Southwold man who had known my father, called out: 'By God, I for one will stand by you, Thomas Wingfield! If they want yon and your sweet lady, they must kill mo first* And seizing a how from the rack he drew it out of its case and strung it, and setting an arrow on the string, he pointed it at the Spaniards in the boot "Then the others broke into shouts of: " 'If you want any man from among us, come aboard and take him, yon torturing devils, ' and the like. "Seeing where the heart of his crew lay, the captain found courage in his turn. He modo no answer to the Spaniards, but bade half of the men hoist the sails with all speed and the rest make ready to keep off the soldiers should they seek to board us. "By now the other two boats had come up and fastened onto us with their hooks. One man climbed into the chains and thence to the deck, and I knew him for a priest of the holy office, one of those who had stood by while I was tormented. Then I grew mad at the thought of all that I had suffered, while that devil watched, bidding them lay on for the love of God. Snatching the bow from the hand of the Southwold seaman, I drew the arrow to its head and loosed. It did not miss its mark, for like you, Thomas, I was skilled with the use of the bow, and he dived back into the sea with on English yard shaft in his heart. "After that they tried to board us no more, though they shot at us with arrows, wounding one man. The captain called to us to lay down our bows and take cover behind the bulwarks, for by now the sails began to draw. Then Do Garcia stood up in the boat and cursed me and my wife. " will find you yet ' he screamed, with many Spanish oaths and foul words. 'If I wait for 20 years, I will be avenged upon you and all you lova Be assured of this, Luisa de Garcia, hide where you will, I shall find you, and when we meet you shall come with me for so long as I will keep you, or that will be the hour of your death. ' "Then we sailed away for England, and the boats fell astern. "My sons, this is the story of my youth and howl came to wed your mother whom I have buried today Juan de Garcia has kept his word." "Yet it seems strange, " said my broth er, "that after all these years ho should have murdered her thus whom you say he loved. Surely even the cvilcst of men had shrunk from such a deed. " "There is little that is strange about it, " answered my father. "How can we know what words were spoken between them be fore he stabbed her? Doubtless he told some of them when he cried to Thomas that now they would see what truth there was in prophecies. What did Dc Garcia swear years since??that she should come with him or he would kill her. Your moth er was still beautiful, Geoffrey, and he may have given her her choice between flight and death. Seek to know no more, son"?and suddenly my father hid his face in his hands and broke into sobs that were dreadful to hear. "Would that you had told us this tale before, father," I said so soon as I could 6peak. "Then there would have lived a devil less in the world today, and I should have been spared a long journey." Little did I know how long that journey would bel CHAPTER V. GOODBY, SWEETHEART. Within 12 days of the burial of my mother and the telling of the story of his marriage to her by my father, I was ready to start upon my search. As it chanced, a vessel was about to sail from Yarmouth to Cadiz. She was named the Adventuress, of 100 tons burden, and carried wool and other goods outward, proposing to return with a cargo of wine and yew staves for bows".' In" this vessel- my father bought me a passage Moreover, he gave me ?50 in gold, which was as much as I would risk upon my person, and obtained letters from the Yarmouth firm of merchants to their agents in Cadiz, in which they were advised to advance me such sums as I might need up to a total of 150 English pounds, and further to assist me in any way that was possible. Now, the ship Adventuress was to sail on the 3d day of June. Already it was the 1st of that month, and that evening I must ride to Yarmouth, whither my bag gage had gone already. _ Except one, my farewells" were mad?T?nd yet" that"was the one I most wished to make. Since the day when we had sworn our troth I had gained no sight of Lily except once at my moth er's burial, and then we had not spoken. Now it seemed that I must go without any parting word, for her father had sent me notice that if I came near the hall his serv ing men had orders to thrust mc from the door, and this was a shame that I would not risk Yet it was hard that I must go upon so long a journey, whence it well might chance I should not return, and bid her no goodby. In my grief and per plexity I spoke to my father, telling him how the matter stood and asking his help. ' go hence," I said, "to avenge oui common loss and if need be to give my life for the honor of our name. Aid mein this." "My neighbor Bozard means his daugh ter for your brother Geoffrey and not for you, Thomas," he answered, ''and a man may do what he wills with his own. Still I will help you if I can. At the least, he cannot drive me from his door. Bid them bring horses, and we will ride to the hall. ' ' Within the half of an hour we were there, and my father asked for speech with the master. The serving man looked at me askance, remembering his orders; still he ushered us into the justice'room, where the squire sat drinking ale. ''Good morrow to you, neighbor," said the squire. "You are welcome here, but you bring one with you who is not welcome, though he be your son. " "I bring him for the last time, friend Bozard. Listen to his request, then grant or refuse it as you will, but if you refuse it.it will not bind us closer. The lad rides tonight to take ship for Spain to seek that man who has murdered his mother. He goes of his own free will, because after the doing of the deed it was he who unwit tingly suffered the murderer to escape, and it is well that he should go. " "He is a young hound to run such a quarry to earth and in a strange coun try," said the squire. "Still I like his spirit and wish him welL What would he of me?" "Leave to bid farewell to your daugh ter. I know that his suit does not please you and cannot wonder at it, and for my own part I think it too early of him to set his fancy in the way of marriage. But if he would see tibe maid it can do no harm, for such harm as there is has been done already. New for your answer. ' ' Squire Bozard thought awhile, then said: "The lad is a brave lad, though he shall be no son-in-lr.w of mine He is going far and mayhap will return no more, and I do not wish i*>at he should think unkind ly of me whea I am dead. Go without, Thomas Wingfield, and stand under yon der beech. Lily shall join you there, and you may speak with her for the half of an hour?no meni. See to it that you keep within sight of the window. Nay, no thanks?go before I change my mind." So I went and waited under the beech with a beating heart, and presently Lily glided up to me, a more welcome sight to my eyes than any angel out of heaven. { And indeed I doubt if an angel could have been more fair than she, or more good and > gentle "Ch, Thomas," she whispered when I I had greeted her, "is this true that you sail i over sea to seek the Spaniard?" ! "I sail to seek the Spaniard and to find ; him and to kill him when he is found. It ! was to come to you, Lily, that I let him go. Now I must let you go to come to I him Nay, do not weep. I have sworn to j do it, and were I to break my oath I should ! be dishonored." i "And because of this oath of yours 1 must be widowed, Thomas, before I am a wife? You go, and I shall never see you more." "Who can say, my sweet? My father went over seas and came hack safe, having passed through many perils." "Yes, he came back ami?net alone. You are young, Thomas, and in far coun tries there are ladies great and fair, and how shall I hold my own in your heart against them, I being so far awr.y?" "I swear to you, Lily" "Nay, Thomas, swear no or.ths lest you should add to your sins by breaking thorn. Yet, love, forget mc not who shall forget "Oh, Thomas," she whispered. you never. Perhaps?oh, it wrings my heart to say it?this is our last meeting on the earth. If so, then we must hope to meet in heaven. At the leastv be sure of Highest of all in Leavening Power.?Latest U. S. Gov't Report Absolutely pure