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PETER RIGKETS li. a?Cvv'\,"'- <?.. _ By SATE JOEDAIf. ; ! -? Wk^ iCopj-ri^ht. JS9J. bx-the Author.! CHAPTER L~ Broadway on a morning early in Feb? ruary, 1750.. Young Peter Ricket, an ?ter in the theater cn Nassau street, where he nightly appeared in "The Beau In the Sudds," started out for a walk. Eren among the brilliantly plum? aged throng passing up and down be - fore Trinity church on that crisp Feb? ruary morning he was a conspicuous figure, for Peter was a fop, and a great many people considered bim a f coi be? cause of his fancy for gav clothes. But they were wrong, as you will see. He wore a cinnamon colored cloth cost quite to the knees? with moth eat? en beaver four or five inches deep upon it, red breeches, dove colored hose/ a Ted satin waistcoat which had once played a conspicuous part in "The Re cn?tmgOnlcer," low buckled shoes, a hat of brown felt trimmed with a sil? ver band, bis periwig tied with a faded yellow ribbon. He poised a cans light? ly in ?ne hand; the other was thrust in his breeches pocket? and he had exactly 2s. 8d. in his purse. Peter was of a romantic? volatile dis^ position. He loved the mysterious, the adventurous. In the quiet of his little ; room on Pearl street he had written a dozen unpublished romances, most of them founded on Captain Kidd's ad? ventures? and he scribbled sentimental ; sonnets to a mistress who as yet was purely ideal Humming a line from "The Beggar's Opera," he minced Along; twirling his cane after the man? ner of tho men about town and watch? ing the scene about him with a lively interest. The middle of the street was covered with hard? glittering snow, and Dutch market women flew over it on skates, baskets poised on their heads or strapped to their backs. He caught glimpses of sedate, puckered and powdered beauties in sedan .chairs. Wealthy matrons ^brushed by him in green and gold bro? cade, hoop petticoats, powdered hair and cheeks touched with French red and pearl powder. Negroes direct from Abyssinia or Madagascar, some with the insignia branded upon cheeks and brows which told they were princes in their own land, followed these rustling dames, ; carrying their shawls and packages. Besides these there was a bewildering, cosmopolitan mixture of countrymen in homespun-Indian servants, the prison? ers of war; solid, soberly attired Dutch "vrows;" soldiers, Huguenots, Jews, each in characteristic costume. As Peter passed the new cemetery a young man approached, dressed in a queer, scallop-hat and long cloak folded closely about him and followed by a j; tall Hindoo servant in native dress. Peter stood still as his eyes fell upon him. It was the stranger who had. so fascinated him at the playhouse every night for the past fortnight. Who was he, this strangely attired, dark eyed * man, wearing no wig and with close cut hair, white as the untrodden snow on the graves near by? He was undoubt? edlyyoung, despite his white hair and the unalterable sadness of his gaze, which was nevertheless eager as he looked searchingly into tho face cf every man who passed. "Iwarraut me this man is of no com? mon stamp,"mused Peter, his imagina? tion aglow. "His garb is strange, and there seems to be a history in his face. 1 would I knew him. I could not sleep last night fer thinking cf him. It may . be he is a Jesuit in hiding." And he turned upon his heel and followed the 7 pair, who by this t?fee had passed him. As they neared John street there was a sudden commotion among the crowd. Women shrieked, a few fainted, and a rush was made for the houses. Not far ahead a strange animal with foaming Jaws and glistening teeth could be seen and behind it a shouting crowd It was only a wildcat chased by a score of men and boys carrying spikes, muskets and bricks. It was nothing strange in those days for an occasional hungry bearer wildcat to leave the forests on the up? per part cf the island-that is, beyond the gates at Warren street-and make its appearance in tho city, lean and rav? enous for food. In the excitement Peter lost sight of the interesting stranger. He espied the Hindoo in the same plight, looking wildly about him and pushing his way among the excited people so violently, indeed, that he toppled headlong against an apoplectic English grandee, who, be? fore stepping into his chariot, was tak? ing a pinch of snuff to quiet his nerves. * Without a second's delay tho grandee angrily turned and laid the Hindoo on his fLee on the pavement "Pub, poh! I'll teach you, you dog, to kneck against a gentleman!" he shouted, with an oath. Peter darted to the Hindoo's side as the chariot drove off and assisted him to" rise. "Nay, do not waste your curses cn him," said Peter indignantly as he wiped the snow from the Hindoo's shoulders and replaced his turban. 4 4 3Iy word, that man ?3 a beast. Pray, let me assist you to walk, and together we will search for your master. " "You know him? Yen know my mas? ter?" he asked curiously in excellent English. "By sight only. Ah, yonder he stands!" And Peter uncovered his head, not because it was at all necessary to do so, but because he could not help it when the stranger's <3esp, kind eyes rested on him. Never had he seen a man who so fascinated him. What was Ais subtle charm? And his voice as he thanked him for assisting his servant in what way was it so different from any other voice he had ever heard? It stirred his heart. He felt his cheek flush, and when the stranger, with a smile which lit up his face like a burst of sunshine, held out his hand to him he could scarcely refrain from kissing it. "Are not you a player?" asked the stranger. "Have I hot seen yon these , many nights at the playhouse in Nassau Bsreet?" "lam onlv a claver, sir." said Peter modestly. "Truly you mast be fond o the play to come so continually. " "Not so indeed," said the other, wit! i an impatient sigh. "It may appea: I strange when I say I do no-; like tb< play, and I think it an ignoble occupa tion for a man to make fools laugh a' ?30 much a week. Each man to his taste. ' "I am sorry, " said Peter-and indeec he was-"that we may not ask stranger.1 behind the scenes, but so it is, for yoi might like to see how curiously dull ii the seamy side of a player's life. Bal may we not meet again?" he asked im? pulsively. Peter's subdued earnestness was mere than flattering, and he was a handsome, sunny eyed lad in spite of his dandyism. After a moment's thought the stranger tock his hand. "Let it be so, young lad. Tomorrow, then, at 5 o'clock at the King's Arms, " he said. "Thank you, sir, and a very good morning to you," said Peter, with his best stage bow. He retraced his steps, very well pleased with himself and with the world in general. "Success attends me," he thought. "Now will he turn out a hero? He is a proper man indeed, and with no com? mon history, I'll be bound." That night the stranger was again at the playhouse, and the next evening at the appointed time Peter walked up the street leading to the King's Arms, a coffee house patronized by the patrician class. He had taken particular pains with his toilet. His wig, neatly comb? ed and curled, was tied with a new rib? bon. He had also sewed fresh ruffles around the frayed edges of his sleeves and turned the silver hatband best side out. It was quite dark, and the lanterns suspended from the houses were being lit along the narrow up hill streets. He quickened his steps as he neared the coffee house, for he saw the familiar fig? ure in the long cloak and scallop hat standing in the gray moonlight, the white turbaned Hindoo erect and tire? less by his side. As they pushed open the two leaved door and entered, a cheery scene greeted them. Small, social looking tables and benches were scattered about the bare? ly furnished room. A large fire of res? inous logs burned in the tiled fireplace, throwing a dazzling light upon the sanded floor. Near it jtood the glisten? ing coffee and teapots. Men were gath? ered in laughing groups about a bar in one corner, drinking; ale from long mugs. Others sat reading or confiden? tially conversing at the different tables. One of his majesty's players near the fire was singing a ca tch, which a few of the merriest gentlemen appreciative? ly applauded: "Eey, nonnyno! Men arc fools that wish to die. Is't not fine to dance and sing When the bells of death, do ring? Is't not fine to swim in wine And turn upon the toe And sing, hey, r onny no, When the winds blow and tho seas flow? Hey, nonny no!" Passing slowly between the scattered groups, Peter noticed his new friend looking into the face cf everyman with the quiet, intent eagerness he had no? ticed before, and he wondered what it could mean. His gaz^ was too meas? ured, too direct, to be accidental, and some cf the men who encountered it lifted their brows, loc?rtrd curiously aft? er him and fell to whispering with one another. "Let us sit in yonder dim comer and have a dish of coffee together," said the stranger, throwing back his long cloak and taking the seat which faced the door. The Hindoo stood tehind him, his arms folded on his breast and his som? ber, unreadable eyes ?ztf? patiently ahead. Peter glanced at him once, and a cold feeling of apprehension stole over him. For whom was he waiting? For whom was his master looking? What was the secret they guarded in common? "Now, I pray yon, tell me your name. It is meet we should know some? thing of each other," said the stranger. "My name is Peter Ricket" "And your age?" continued the other, looking dreamily at him as the serving man placed the coffee before them. "I was 18 on last Twelfth Night" "Do you never grow weary of a play? er's life?" "In faith I do, sir. I would rather be a gentleman," said Peter laughingly. "Well, and you can. I like you. I be? lieve in you. I need a secretary on my estate, to which I return shortly. Come and be also my friend," said the stranger, laying his white, scholarly hand on Peter's and smiling into the lad's astonished face. "Ah, sir," said Peter warmly, "I would desire it above all things, but my learning is small. I command a ri? diculous penmanship." "What matters that?" asked the stranger and then continued with a new earnestness: "Upon the stage your face and voice attracted me from the first Something in your personality ap? peals to me powerfully. You are so glad, so young, so like what I once was. Your smile awakens memories of my own boyhood, when I, too, was happy. Say, is't a bargain?" "With all my heart," cried Peter, grasping his hand. "I am alone in the world. Oh, sir, if you need a friend, I trebly need one. And to travel ! Did you say indeed we were to travel?" "Aye, indeed." "And where?" leaning his elbows on the table and fastening his dancing eyes on the other's face. "To P;;ris? Ecod, I I do so love the French!" "Assuredly to Paris. And now let ' me tell you something cf myself. I j have had a curious life. Has any other ; man survived an experience like minc, | I wonder? But of that later. My name is Richard Wayling. I am an English- | man, but up to eight years ago passed : my life in India. My father went thith? er with the East India company, taking me with him when I was a child in ! arms." "Have you a profession?" asked Pe? ter. "Your appearance bespeaks the artist" "I have no prof ession, " ho said, drop? ping his lids. When he looked up agaiu, th^re^Wj^ eyes, which deep?\ eri as he spoke.'"But I have a quest which I can never for? sake, an idea which overpowers all oth? ers, a longing which pursues me night and d?y, a fixed purpose which scorches my heart like a hot iron, a secret hope which I calculate upon and dream over. Ah, Peter, you know not what it meaus to have loved a woman better than your life, do you? Kay, you aro too young. You know not what it is to" The Hindoo suddenly .Inid his hand with a soft deliberateness upon his nias The Hindoo suddenly laid his hand upon his master-s shoulder. ter's shoulder. The expression of wait? ing had gone from his brown face, and over it flashed a glow like fire upon ice. He smiled, and the cold satisfaction of that smile was a deadly menace. Peter drew back, a chill in his blood. "Look, sahib, who stands yonder, the ilight of the fire upon him?" he whis? pered, crouching behind Wayling so that only the top of his turban could bo seen. CHAPTER IL Wayling bent his head eagerly for? ward, and a dark flush stole over his face as if he were struggling with suf? focation. He started to his feet, but at the words, "Patience, sahib," from the Hindoo he fell back into his seat shud? dering violently, with a countenance like a dead man's. Peter wonderingly turned his head and saw standing beside the fire a rak? ish, half tipsy fellow. His clothes, of fine material, were stained and torn at the seams, and his general appearance was that of a well born rake reduced to his last shilling. He held a tankard of ale half .way to his lips as he boisterous? ly demanded a song from the player. "Tuneup, tune up!" he cried, with a swagger. "You're growing wheezy aye, wheezy; 'twas my word. We want none of your "doleful ditties. Hark, now, I'll sing a song for you. I learned it in England when I was sweetheart ing: "Once did I walting spend the night And tell how many minutes move, Once did I wishing waste the day, And then I was in love. "Once did I sonnet to my saint, My soul in numbers move, Once did I tell a thousand Ilea? And then'I was in love. "Once in my car did dangling hang A little turtledove, Once, in a word, I was a fool, Andjxen I was in love. *'jacw ?nan5f>?ocls among' you?" he cried to the young gallants who had gathered round him, and scon their im? pudent gibes and laughter resounded ? through the place. "I never before saw Edward Cautley ? even half way sober," said Peter, leek- j ing mystified at his companions. "And you knew him?" asked Way? ling in a harsh, excited whisper. "Kot as a friend. He was always about th 3 playhouse, but thi3 month past he has been in Boston, squandering his last shilling, no doubt. Ho often asked me to the coffee house with him, but I never agreed. In faith, he is well nigh a pauper and an evil fellow to boot. 'Tis not good for one's reputation to hold much converse with him. " "Bid him come to your lodging to? night," said Wayling eagerly. "Let that be your first duty as my friend and secretary. I must see that man for a h alf hour tonight. Will you do this for me ?" Peter hesitated. The expression on the Hindoo's face made him suspicious of treachery. "There is some mystery here. What may your reasons be for this strange re? quest? What will you say-would do?" asked Peter, very much troubled and looking from one to the other. "Tonight you shall know all, I prom? ise you. Will you consent? If net, the present time will suit my purpose as well. " And he half rose from his seat. Peter hesitated only a second longer. He fonnd it impossible to resist Way ling's look and tone. After an inward struggle he gave thc desired promise, though he feared-he scarce knew what. When Cautley had finished his third tankard of ale, -he left the place. "Follow him, Eao," whispered Way? ling to the Kindco. "Mark where he lives, but bo careful he dees not catch a glimpse of you. " The Hindoo obeyed witn alacrity, and l for some moments after his departure his master remained buried in thought, an expression of pain deepening around his mouth. He lifted his head, and meeting Peter's pitying eyes grasped his hand firmly in silence. "Is there no way I can help you?" asked Peter. "None. Oh, the sight of that man has resurrected my past, " he said, stag? gering to his feet. "Let us go out into the air, or I shall stifle." In ai:other moment they were on the street. "Where are you going now, Peter?" Wayling asked when they had walked a short way in silence. "The play begins at half an hour after 6. It wants a quarter to the hour. I shall Le just in time." "Why need you go there? Yon have j done with a player's life. Come, walk j about the town (with me and let un ! talk." "Kay, I cannot," said Peter gently. "There is no one to lill my place in the play. But if yon desire it I will give notice of my ?feavi ng tonight." "Be sure you do and make also all due arrangement* at yor.$- ging.house I for a* hasty departure," said Wayling, ' with ominous emphasis. "We must sail j from New York cu the first vessel out ! ward bound. One leaves for England at dawn." They arrived at the door of the tbea ! ter on Nassau street. "At what hour tonight will you be ready for my visit?" asked Wayling. "At ll precisely. Do not knock. Throw a pebble against the window, I and I will corns down and admit you j myself." ? Wayling held out his hand. "It may be cn the morrow you will not take my hand. Perhaps I shall sail without you at dawn," be said, a pa? thetic wistfulness in his voice and face. "And yet I know you will pity me, Pe? ter-aye, even though yen condemn. At ll watch for me. " ; With an excited, troubled heart Pe? ter watched him gc down the street un? til the darkness swallowed him. "What strange things do his words forecast?" he mused. "I hope nothing ill will come cf this. Yet I feel I will witness a scene tonight I may not soon forget. Ah, why did I consent? I know not to what evil doing I have pledged myself. Ecod, I'll run after him and tell him I cannot agree to blindly fol? low his wishes. But, no;" he muttered, turning back again, "let come what may. It is too late now. I shall keep ! my word." At ll o'clock Pearl street was as si? lent as a street in a deserted town. j Nothing could be heard but the distant cry of the rattle watch as they told the J hour. An cccasional light burned in an i upper window, but for the mest part ? all good New Yorkers were asleep. The sky was yellow, the moon floating above the dermer windows peeped forlornly from a mist, and a dampness had crept j into the air which foreboded a stcrm. The Hindoo and his- master walked almost noiselessly along until they stood before Peter's house. In au upper window the curtain was drawn aside, and a candle bumed on the window sill. j "Give the signal,' Ead," directed Wayling. The Hindoo picked up a fragment cf stone and threw it against the window. It struck the glass clearly, faintly, like the tick of a clock. They saw Peter peer down for a second, very pale and anxious, and in a few moments he soft? ly opened the dcor. . "Has he come?" whispered V7ayliug as they entered the hall. "Aye, but one word in your ear. He is drunk and at your mercy. Promise there will bo no violence done here to? night." "No violence," Wayling whispered back, motioning to the Hindoo to ascend the stairs. "He shall die painlessly. That is more than he deserved, but die ho shall." "What are .you saying, man? What mean you?" asked Peter aghast. "That he must die. Not here, if you refuse, then cn the street-tonight-to? morrow ! What matters time pr place so that it be soon-scon? Come, let us has? ten. We waste time. " "Ah, I have been bitterly deceived by you," said Peter in a hot whisker, and this disappointment in his hero hurt him.almost as much as the terror of the mysterious something he was about to witness. "Yon have trapped me into a vilo plot against a man's life, and I thought you-well, no matter what. I was a feel. But I swear you cannot make me a party to this murder, a pre? arranged, revolting, cold blooded mur? der! I would rather cut oil my right hand than serve .your ends, sir. I will arouse the house." "Peter, hearken to me. You will not do so," said the other softly, laying his hand upon the lad's shoulder and look? ing deeply into his eyes. "This mau has wronged me to an amount beyond your power of calculation; I ask you only to hear what I snail say. I only ask you that. If afterward you desire Cautley to go free, not a finger shall be laid upon him while under your roof. Think you I could look you in your eyes and speak falsely? Trust me." The hand pressed more firmly on Peter's shoulder, and he suffered him? self to be half led to the stairs, which he ascended like one in a dream. Upon the first landing the Hindoo waited for them. His face was set with quiet de? termination, and his eyes were like bril? liants. Without a word they filed up the narrow stairway to the poor little room next the sky, where Peter studied his parts, wrote his sonnets and dreamed his dreams. Cautley lay sleeping upon a chintz covered couch set against the opposite wall. He breathed heavily. His face was darkly flushed, his head thrown back, his waistcoat partially unbuttoned, showing his throat. "Asleep!" exclaimed Wayling, ad? vancing to his side, his face paling and contracting as he gazed upon him. "And he can sleep ia tranquillity. 'Tis a pity to disturb him, but our time is short, our business pressing. Awake!" And he shook him forcibly by the shoul? ders. "Eh? Eh? What now? Don't bother, Peter. Let me be," was the sullen, sleepy answer. "Edward Cautley, there is one here wants to speak to you. ?it up. You have been sleeping roo long, bv far too long." "Who speaks?" muttered the drunk? ard, starting into a sitting posture, a strange expression crossing his silly face "W: speaks?" he whispered. P; "v.- net Wayling's fastened up- ! on u: .nd with a shrill scream he feil back against the wall, mumbling j incoherent prayers, his ann raised as if to ward off a blow. "He thinks me a specter b' ; of his j drunken stupor. Wo must arouse him. ; Fill yonder kit with water. Rac, and j bathe his head with it," directed Way- ; ling. The Hindoo obeyed only tco well. He ' drenched the unfortunatecr? ature until he sputtered and gasped for breath and ' left him limp and exhausted, bat thor- ? onghly wide awake. "You know me now?" asked Way- j ling, standing a few feet away, where i the.candlelight fell. or. b?? frosty ?air. TO BE^COSTtaUED. ? MISER GENIUSES. I Men Who Hare Seduced Money Saving to a Fascinating Art. j The fascinating study of financial I gain amounts almost to genius in some. ? Avarice was the inspiration of one of j our own great men, Franklin, whose ! memory is debased by his reputation as I "Poor Richr.rd. " The masterpiece of ! Balzac is his novel "Eugenic Grandet.'' ; The hero, old Grandet, is a miser whose j financial genius amounts to thu sublime i and which Balzac contrives and succeeds ? in making almost picturesque. Among the mest distinguished misers j was Daniel Dancer. Upon the death cf j his father Dancer came into the estate, I which yielded a good income. One of his sisters lived with him and imbibed the miserly teachings. Dancer was re? markable fer the style cf his garments. His coat was made of pieces of every j hue and texture, collected from the ! streets and ash heaps. His garments j were held together by a twist of hay. I He and his sister lived happily in a hovel, the paneless sashes of which were darkened with boards, rags and papers. So?p and towels being expensive, Mr. Dancer occasionally washed in a pond and dried himself with sand. Three pounds of coarse beef and 14 dumplings ! formed their menu, for years, except I upon one occasion, when Providence j changed the course of these viands. Mr. Dancer, walking one day in search of bones and other delicate offal, found a dead sheep and carried it home in triumph. His sister received it as an immediate gift from heaven. Time went on, and the maiden fell ill. Lady Temple, a generous neighbor, was so kind that Miss Dancer determined to i leave her ?2, OOO, but she died before the will could be signed, and ber brother claimed her fortune as the price of her board fer 30 years. He constantly guarded against thieves and concealed his gold and bank notes with the spiders among their cobwebs in the cowhouse and in the holes in the chimney, covering them with ashes. The light of generosity, however, pene? trated one chink of his miserable soul he loved his dog, and while denying ? himself bread he allowed his uog a pint ! of milk daily with other delicacies. Mr. Dancer's delight in life was to visit tho holes where his wealth was kept and count it. * In hi9 seventy-eighth year Dancer became violently ill, but refused to see a physician. Again Lady Tem pie .played j the good fairy at the wretched hovel, i attending him to the last andaras gen? erously rewarded by his immense for? tune, which he left to her. It would not be a difficult task to show the iniiuence of avarice upon na? tions; the evils of society, the corrup? tions of religion and thc tragedies of war have often been instigated and sup? ported by this bass passion.-Detroit Free Press. WEIGHTED SILK. j Sometimes Ninety Per Cent of the Ma? terial Is Foreign Substance. At the present day the practice of i weighting silks by means cf astringent ? extracts, salts of tin, silicate and phos ! phate of soda and a variety of other ! substances, ail mero cr less injurious to i the wear cf the fiber, has reached such : a height that it is seriously affecting j the trade. This is especially the case as ! regards black silk, but fabrics cf other colors suffer in tho same manner, j It used to be remarked that a silk j dress cr a silk handkerchief would last j a lifetime, and this is almost true for ! absolutely pure silk. But in much of j the fabric sold at the present day there i is not more than 10 or 12 per cent cf j real silk, ail the rest beir . extraneous j matter applied to tho fiber . . thedecep I tive precess of "weighting. "' Pure silk, when burned, leaves a I quantity of ash which is always consid? erably less than 1 per cent, but the ash left by some weighted silks has been found to amount to as much as 4S per cent of thc weight of the fabric. The extraneous substances to which we have alluded are caused to adhere to the fiber by passing the skeins through hot baths of tannin extracts, tin salts, salts of iron, antimony, potash, etc., and it has been found that when a silk much charged with such substances is heated it will not burn with flame, but will only smolder away, leaving a very large amount of ash behind. But these weighted silks are, how? ever, of so combustible a nature that some have been known to take fire spon? taneously, a result due to the gradual decomposition of tho substances used for weighting, and disastrous fires have been traced to this cause. Spontaneous combustion is liable to break out mere especially in black silks that are stored in warm, dry places.-Chambers' Jour? nal. The Ifcvrest Battons. The newest buttons, says a New York fashion writer, are shown in three dis? tinct sizes for the jacket, skirt and bod? ice. Many of the smaller buttons arc veritable jewels in their artistic beauty of color and design, and many are set, like actual gems, in low mountings of cut steel and silver or pure gold. Jet opal, plomb colored enamel and old bronco buttons set i:i riveted points, framing dainty miniatures, medallions, etc., are familiar styles, but many of the expensive jet and cord passemen? teries have buttons to match, which are not intended to have an}- strain upon them, bur merely finish strap ends, meek buttonholes on skirt fronts, etc. When used upon the bediee, they are generally fastened on the outside or very often in the center of handsome jewel trimmings en applique, the bediee elos ing with strong hooks and eyes set upon a riv underneath. Thinkingr aii'd Doing Risht. It is much eerier to think right with? out doing right than to do right with- j out thinking right. Just thoughts may and woefully often do fail of producing just deeds, but just deeds are sure to beget just thoughts.-London Echo. The United Kingdom has 1,700,000 factory operatives, France 1,780.000, Germany 1,530,000 and the United States 2,750,000. \ * ?Caveats, and Trade-Marks obtained and all Pat-* ?eat busiaess coaductru for MODERATE FEES. < ?OUR OFFICE is OPPOSITE U.S. PATEN r OFFICE? ?arid wecaasccurc oaten: ia less time than those ! ?ad model, drawing or pnoto., with descrip-? . We advise, if patent?le or not, free oti ge. Our fee not due till patent is secured. 2 PAMPHLET, 44 How to Obtain Patents," witibl C.A.SNOW&CO.i OPP. PATENT OFFICE, WASHINGTON. D. C. UvvvvvvvvvvtAA^vvvvvvvvvvvvvv SOUTH CAROLINA AND GEORGIA. RAILROAD. PASSENGER DEPARTMENT. Corrected to Jan. 24tb, 1*97 Lv Charleston Ar Summerville " Pregnalls " Georges " Branchville " RowesviHe " Oracgeburg " St Matthews " Fort Motte u Ringville Columbia Lv Columbia Ar Kicgvilie " Fort iiotte " St Matthews " Oracgeborg " RowesviHe " Branchville " Georges 11 Pregnalls " Summerville " Charleston DAILY. 7 10 a m 7 46 a m J8 18 a m 8 30 A m 9 00 a ci '9 15 a in 9 28 a m 9 48 a c 10 CO a m 10 10 a m 10 55 a rn 7 00 arc 7 40 a a 7 Ll a m a 02 a a 8 24 n m 8 38 a m 8 55 a m 9 35 a a 9 48 a BI 10 22 a m 11 00 a ia DAILY 5 30 p m 6 10 p rn 6 50 p m 7 04 p rn 7 50 p rn 8 07 pm 8 24 p m 8 43 p rn 9 03 t> ra 9 20 p rn 10 10 p rc 4 00 p rc 4 44 p m 4 55 pm 5 09 p ra 5 27 p rc 5 42 p m f? 55 p m 6 37 p ta 6 50 pm 7 22 p ra 8 CO p ra Lv Charleston " Branchville " Bamberg " Denmark " Blackville " W illiston Aiken " Augusta Ar Augusts Lv Aiken " Williston " Blackville " Denmark " Bamberg " Brsncbviile Ar Charleston 7 10 a m 5 15 a m 9 41 a m 9 52 a m 10 10 a m 10 27 a m 11 09 a m ll 51 a ra 6 20 a m 7 08 a ra 7.49 a m 8 CS a ra 8 20 a m 8 33 a m 9 10am ll 00 a m 5 30 p IC 7 50 p m 8 19 p rc 8 31pm 9 50 p m 9 10 p rc 9 57 p rc 10 45 p m 3 20 pm 4 07 p m 4 44 p m 5 03 pm 5 17 pm 5 29 pm 5 55pm 8 00 prc Fast Express, Aagnsta ead Washington, with Through Sl?eoers to New York LT Augusta 3 05 p n Ar Aiken 3 44 p rt t{ Denmark 4 59 p ru Lv Denmark 6 25 a m " Aiken 7 28 a *n Ar Augusta 8 10 a rc Daily Except Sunday, Lv Canrden '3 45 a m 2 25 p m " Camden' Junction 9 35 a m 3 55 p m Ar Ringville 10 05 am 4 35 pm Lv Ringville 10 25 am 6 00 a a " Camden Junction ll 00 a m 6 40 a m Ar Camden ll 55 a m 815am E. S BOWEN, L A. EMERSON, Gea'i Sfaa'g'r TraSc Man'gi* General offices-Charleston. S. C. ?MeBlYerlClisrloEMBaiifayC? Conjunctly with the Schedule io effect October 18, 1887. North Lound. t? 0 ?G. South found. 7 10am Lv Cbar*t-?rob Ar 8 00 p m S 57 ft ni L?- Brunei vtitt Ar 0 Lb p m 10 25 am Lv K?D?6-v;i.e Ar 4 44 pm (J. R & C. 12 05 p nu Lv trodes Ar 3 CO p m 1 05 p m Lv Ktrsr.&w Ar 2 00 p m 1 45 p m L7 Lancaster Ar 1 00 p m 2 30 p ra Lv Catawba June Ar 12 15 p m 2 55 p m Lv Rock Bili Ar ll 55 a to 3 30 p rn Lv Yorkviile Ar ll ?5 a m 4 50 pm Lv Blflck3turg Ar 10 JO aro 5 20 p rn Lv Shelby Ar 9 20 ? m 5 55 p a Lv Henrietta Ar 8 35 a m 6 12 p m Lv Fotest City Ar 8 20 am 6 27 p m Lv Rutherfordton Ar 8 C5 a m 7 30 p m Ar Marion Lv '7 00 a m (Gaffney Division) 6 30 p m Lv Blacksburg Ar 7 25 a ra 7 05 p m Ar Gaffneys Lv 6 50 a m Trains ocrtb cf Camden run daily txctpt Sunday. Trains between Charleston and Kingsville run daily For information as to rate?, Clyde Line Sailing etc., call on local, couirsc ing and traveling agents of both roads, or E. F. GRAY, Traffic ikoeaer. S.B L?MPKIN, Gtn. P?sd Agt. L. A EMERSON, ? ll. Blacksburg.S. G. S. C. & G. R. R Charleston, S. C. Iilsi iii tae?l 1S In cifjcf Jannarv 15?O, 1303. TRAINS GOING NORTH. Leave Wilsens Ki!:* " Jordon. cc ri-.-;. u Summerton, " iitii-Td, u Siiver: Packsville " Tindal " W. li S. Jone. Ar. Suir.ter, No 72* )'i a ES 9 35 a r S 45 c x IC Mam 10 4.; a rc 11 10 a ra ii cc rr" 11 55 p ? 12 27 p rr 12 30 n rn TRAINS GOING SOUTH No. 73.? Ls' ?ve ??um?&r, " W.AS.Jnne .. Tind<:!: pccksvi?a :; Silver, Millard ;: Summerton t. Davis ' Jordon, ir, Wilson Mill, 2 30 T> rc 2 33 r, ra 2 fO p a 6 IUOL 3 35 p rr 3 <5 p rr 4 40 p ro 5 CC p C: 5 50 p rj 6 30 p m Trains het^een Millard and St. Paul Irave Millard iO .3am end 345 p m.. arriving St. I'sul 10 25 a tr. ?nd 3 55 p m. Returning .ei.vc St. Paul IC 35 a m ar.? 4 IC p m. and arrive Millard 10 45 a ru ard 4 20 r Ot. Dai? ly except Sunday. .Dailv ezceot Sunday THJMAS WILSON Predsient