The watchman and southron. (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, March 23, 1898, Image 8
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dozen unpublished romances, most of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