Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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EAT SHE COULD. By IAS MACLAREN fOopjrt?nt. 1897.Ian Maclaren. 1 ? Maud Trevor was a" genuine woman and kept her accounts with the aid of six purses. One was an ancient house? wife cf her grandmother's, which used to be equipped with silk and thread and needles and buttons, and from a secret place yielded to the third generation a bank note of value. This capacious re? ceptacle was evidently intended for the household exchequer, whose transactions i were innumerable and whose monthly budget depended for success on an un? failing supply of copper. Another had come from her mother and was of obso? lete design-a bag closed at both ex? tremities, with a long, narrow slip in .tite middle and two rings which com? pressed the gold into one end.and the salver into the other. This was marked out by Providence for charity, since it made no provisions for pennies and laid a handicap of inconvenience on three? penny bite It retained a subtle trace of aa old fashioned scent her mother.loved and recalled her mother going out on some errand of mercy-a St Clare in ber sacrifices and devotion. Purse three descended from her father .and was an incarnation of business-of chamois leather with a steel clasp that closed with a click, having three compart? ments within, one of which had its own clasp and was reserved for gold. In this bask Hand kept the funds of a clothing society, whose more masterly bargains ran sometimes into farthings, and she waa always haunted with anxiety lest a -new farthing and a half sovereign should some day change places. A pret? ty little purse with ivory sides and sil? ver hinges-a birthday gift of her girl hobd-was large enough to hold her . dress a?kjwai^ wMch Trevor had fixed at a most? generous rate when he had : barely^400 ? year and had since forgo t tejoC to increase. One in sealskin had : been\a45ift ex engagement days and held the savings of the year against birthday and Christinas presents-whose contents were the subject of many calculations! A cast o& purse of Trevor's had been devoted to Bertie, their only child, and from its resources came, one way or other, all he needed, but it happened that Na 6 was constantly re-enforced tram the purse with the ivory sides. Saturday forenoon was sacred to book? keeping, and Maud used her bed as a tobie" for this critical operation, partly because it was so much larger than an escritoire, but chiefly becauseyou could empty the purses into little pools with steep, protecting banks. Of course if one sat down hurriedly there was great of amalgamation, with quite consequences, and Trevor held over Maud's head the chance of his making this' mistake. It was his way, ? till he grew toof busy, to watch till the p?saseos face would suddenly brighten and a rapid change be made in the pools-the household contributing some / thing to presents and dress purse to Ber? tie, while private and public charity : would accommodate each other with change. Caresses were strictly forbidden in those times of abstruse calculation, and the evil one who stands at every ; man's elbow once tempted Trevor to roll the counterpane into a bundle purses, money and all-but Maud, when he confessed, said that no human being would be allowed' to fall into such wickedness. . Trevor was obliged to open her ward? robe 14 days after the funeral, and the first thing he lighted upon was the parses. They lay in a row on an old ac? count book-a motley set indeed-but so absurd and tricky a spirit is pathos that they affected him more swiftly than the sight of a portrait Was ever any one so faithful and conscientious, so self forgetful and kind, so capable also and clever in her own sphere? Latterly he had sneered at the purses, and once, being vexed at something in . a letter, he had told Maud she ought to have done with that folly and keep her accounts like an educated woman. "A girl of 12 would be ashamed.'' What a merciless power memory wields! She only drooped her head-it was on the sealskin nurse the tear fell, and he saw the bend of the Wye at Tintern where he had sur fit They lay in a row on an old account book. prised her with that purse. He was moved to kiss away that tear, but his heart hardened. Why could she not be like the women he knew? Well, he would not be troubled any longer with ber simple ways-he could do as he pleased now with the purses. A bitter madness of grief took possession of him, Bnd he arranged them on the bed. One was empty, the present purse, and he understood-the dress purse, o?v course, a little silver onlj-the rest had gone that he might .have scmethiug beautiful He knew that it must be done sooner or later, and today was best, for his heart could be no sorer. Yes, here they were, the ungiven gifts. For every person, from himself to the nurse-all wrapped in soft white papar and ready in good time. But he must inkstand for his study in .ans other things complete-he noted every detail as if t< estimate its value. It came back to hin how she had cunningly questioned hin about his needs before he left for Canne: till he grew impatient "Don't bethe: me about ink bottles." Yes, the veri words and others-the secret writing o memory came out in this Are of sorrow "Why won't women understand that ? man can't answer questions about trifle: when he has work on hand?" He coule swear to the words, and he knew hov* Maud looked, although he did not see. "Don't go away. You promised tha you would sit beside me when I workec -hinder me? I suppose yen are bidding for a kiss. You know the sight of you] face inspires me. " That was ten year ago-he might have borne with he: presence a little longer. She nevei Would come again-he would have nc interruptions of that kind. Her gloves, sixes-what a porfeel hand it was (smooths out the glove). His memory brings up a dinner table Mrs. Chatterby gives her opinion 01 Meredith's last novel and helps herseli to salt-he sees a disgusting hand, witt stumpy fingers and for impudence a street arab of a thumb. A vulgar little woman through and through, and yet because she picked up scraps from the monthlies and had the trick of catch? words people paid her court And he had sometimes ?thought but he knew better today-of all things in the world a glove is the surest symbol. Mended, too, very neatly-that he might have his hansoms. It was the last thing he ever could have imagined, and yet it must be a diary-Maud's diary. Turns over the leaves and catches that woman's name against whom he has suddenly taken a violent dislike. " "January 25.-Was at Mrs. Chatter by's-how strange one does not say any? thing of her husband, yet he is the nice: of the two-and I think in will be bet? ter not to go again to dinner. One cac always make some excuse that will no) be quite untrue. " 'The dinner is in boaor of Mr. FynieaJ, who is leaving his college and coming to live in London to do literary work, * as Mrs. Cha'tterby has been ex? plaining for weeks, 'and to give tone to the weeklies. ' "'The younger men are quite devoted to him, and we ought all to be so thank? ful that he is to be within reach. His touoh reminds one of'-I don't know the French writer, but she does not al? ways give the same name. 'We hope to see a great deal of him. So delightfully cynical, you know, and hates the bour? geoisie.' "I was terrified lest I should sit next Mr. Fynical, but Mrs. Chatterby was merciful and gave me Janie Godfrey's father. Edward says that he is a very able man and will be lord chancellor some day, but he is so quiet and modest that one feels quite at hon e with him. Last summer he was yachting on the west coast of Scotland, and he described the sunset over the Skye hills, and I tried to give him a Devons]lire sunrise. We both forgot where we were, and then Mrs. Chatterby asked me quite loud, so that every c :e looked, what I thought of 'Smudges. ' "The dinner table seemed to wait for my answer, and I wish that the book had never come from the dibrary, but I said that I had sent it back because it seemed so bitter, and era el, and one ought to read books which showed the noble side of life. " 'You are one of the cid fashioned women,' she replied. 'You believe in a novel for the young person,' with a smile that hurt me, and I told her that I had been. brought up o:a Sir Walter Scott I was trying to say something about his purity and chivalry, when I caught Mr. Fynical's eye and blushed red. If I had only been silent, for I'm afraid, every one was laughing, and Ed? ward did not say one word to me all the way home. * "February 20.-Another ordeal, but not so unfortunate as the last The Browne-Smythes are very kind friends, but I do think they are too much con? cerned about having clever people at their house. One evening Mrs. Browne Smythe said she was happy because nothing had been talked about except translations of Homer. A certain guest was so miserable on that occasion that I begged Edward to leave ne at home this time, but he said it would" not be Greek again. It was science, however, and when we came in Mi's. Browne Smythe was telling a very learned look? ing person that she simply lived for fossils. A young lady beside me was talking about gases to a nervous man, j who grew quite red and tried to escape behind a table. I think she was wrong in her words, and he was too polite to correct her. To my horror, he was obliged to take me in to dinner, and there never could have been t;wo people more deserving of pity, for I was terri? fied of his knowledge, and he was afraid of my ignorance. We sat in perfect si? lence till a fatherly old man, quite a farmer, on my left began to calk to me so pleasantly that I described our coun? try people and was really sorry when the ladies had to leave. Edward says that he is one of the greatest discoverers in the world and has all kinds of honors. We became so friendly that he has promised to take tea with me, and I think he does not despise my simplicity. How I long to be cleverer for Edward's sake, for I'm sure he must bo ashamed of me among those brilliant women. I cannot blame him. X am proud of my husband. "May 15.-I am quite discouraged and have resolved never to go to any chari? table committee again. Miss Tabitha trimmer used shameful language at the Magdalene meeting today, and Mrs. "Wood-Ruler showed me that ? had bro? ken law 43 by giving a poor girl per? sonal aid. It seems presumptuous on s my part to criticise such ablo and dili? gent workers, but my mother never spoke about certain subject?, and it is agony for me to discuss them. When the vicar insisted on Sunday that thoughtful tornen were required for Christian service today, and that we must read up all kinds of books and know all kinds of painful things, my heart sank. It does not seem as if there was any place left for simple folk like roe. 4 Per.t?aT*s it w^ld be better to idve ----- ? - - . _,_ ? up ^brbg out altogether and live* for Edward and Bertie. I can always do something for them, and their love will be enough reward. "November 30.-? have not slept all ' night, for I made a dreadful mistake about a new book that ovcry one is read? ing, and Edward was so angry. He did not mean all he said, but he never call? ed me a fool before. Perhaps he is right, and it is hard on him, who is so bright. Sometimes I wish"- And then there was no writing, only a tear mark. Afterward he opened the letters that had come since her death, and this is what he read: MY DEAR TREVOR-The intelligence of Mrs. Trevor's death has given me a jrreat shock of regret-, and you will allow me to express my sympathy. Many men not given to enthusiasm had told me of her face and goodness, and be? fore I had seen yonr wife I knew she was a very perfect type of womanliness. The few times I mot her Mrs. Trevor cast a certain spell over me-the nameless grace of the for? mer days-and I felt myself unworthy in her presence. Once when a silly woman referred to one of the most miserable examples of de? cadent fiction, your wife spoke so nobly of true literature that I was moved to thank her, but I gathered from her face that this would no* be acceptable. It seemed to me that the maok had fallen from a beautiful soul, and one man at least, in whom there is too little reverence, took the shoes from off his feet. Pardon me il I have exceeded, and believe mc, yours faith folly, BERNARD FYNICAL. The next was from tho F. RS.: MT DEAR SIR-It is 'quite wrong for me, a stranger, to intrude on your grief, but I am compelled to tell you that an old fellow who only spoke to your wife once had to wipe bia spectacles over The Times this morning, it came about this way. The lady I had taken in to dinner at the Brown e-Smythes gabbled about science till I lost my temper and told her it would be a good thing if women would keep Trevor's f ortttude was Sailing f ast. to their own sphere. Tour wife was on tho other side, and I turned to her in despair. She delighted me by confessing utter ignorance of my subject, and then she won my heart by some of the loveliest stories of peasant life in Devonshire I had ever heard, so full of insight delicacy. If the parsons preached like that, I would be in church next Sunday. She put mo in mind of a sister I lost long ago-who had the same low, soft voice and honest, trusty eyes. When she found I was a lonely man, year wife had pity on me and asked me to call on her. But I had to go to America, and only returned two days ago. I intended to wish her a happy New Year, but it's too late. I cannot get you out of my mind, and I thought it might comfort you to know how a fossil like myself was melted by that kind heart. Believe oe, my dear air, your obedient servant, ARCHIBALD GILMORE. The third was also from a man, but this time a lad in rooms whom Trevor had seen at the house: DEAR MR. TREVOR-YOU perhaps know that i Mrs. Trevor allowed me to spend cn hour with heir cf an evening when I felt downhearted or j had any trouble, but no one will ever know how much she did for me. When I came up to London, my faith began to go, and I saw that in a short time I would be an agnostic. This did not trouble me so much on my own nc ! count as my mother's, who is dead, and made me promise something on her deathbed. So I bought books and heard sermons on unbelief j till-?I was quite sick of the whole business. Mrs. Trevor took me to hear your own clergy? man, who did not help me one bit, for he was ! too clever and logical, but you remember I I came home with you, and after you had gone ! to your study I told Mrs. Trevor my difflcul I ties, and she did mu moro good than all the ; books. She never argued nor preached, but ! when I was with her ono felt that religion was a reality, and that she knew more about it than any one I had met since I lost my mother. It is a shame to trouble you with my story when you are in such sorrow, and no ! one need tell you how noble a woman Mrs. j Trevor was, but I could not help letting you know that her goodness has saved one young fellow at least from infidelity anet worse. You will not mind my having sent a cross to put on the coffin. It was all I could do. Yours gratefully. GEORGE B EH SON. There was neither beginning nor end to the fourth letter, but it was written in a lady's hand: I am a clergyman's daughter, who left hor father's house and went astray. I have been in the inferno and have seen what I read in Dante while I was innocent. One day tho old rectory rose up before my eyes, the roses hanging over my bedroom window, the birds ! flying in and out the ivy, my father on the lawn, aged and broken through my sin, and I resolved that my womanhood should no longer be dragged in the mire. My home was closed years ago, I had no friends, so I went in my desperation to a certain institute and told my case to a matron. She was not unkindly, but the committee were awful, without either sympathy or manners, and when an unmar I ried woman wished to pry into the details of my degradation-but I can't tell a man the shame they would have put upon me-my heart turned to flint, and 1 left the place. I would have gone back to my life and perished had it not been for one woman who followed me out and asked me to go home with her for afternoon tea. Ead she said one word about my past I had flung myself away, but because she spoke to me as if I were still in the rectory I could not refuse. Mrs. Trevor never once mentioned my sin, and she saved my soul. I | am now a nurse in ono of th<t hospitals, and i .im, 'Jars. ?5yies says to me,' "?rr Aw?ces, you j goes to the Society For the Eorganization of Female Toilers." Says I, "Wot is that?" and j she declares, "It's a set of ladies oo wants to 'elp women to work, and they'll see you sets lull ot peace. As*-long "as 1 "Ave 1" shall lay white flowers on her grave, who surely was i She wisest and tenderest of women. Trevor's fortitude was failing fast before this weight of unconscious con- | demnatiou, and he was only abie to read one more, an amazing production, that had cost the writer great pains: HONORED Sir.-Bill says as it's ty king too much on the likes o' me to be addressing you on your missus' death, but it's not her hus? band that will despise a pore working woman co's lost her best friend. Wltcn Bili 'ad the rumatiks and couldn't do no work, and Byby wos a^growin^ that thin you could *oe thro' lt." So I goes, and I saw a set of ladies sitting at a table, nnd they looks at me, and ono with spectacles anda v'ice lil;?-an 'nndsawarsksme, 1 "Wot's your name':'' and " "Ow old ?r?* ycu?': and " 'Ow many children have you'r*'and **Arc your "abitetemperate?" and ihenshe says, "Ii you pay a shilling, we 'ii! put yoarnymc down for work ha?; an imski?l . ', worker." "I 'avn't got a shilling, and Byby's dying for want of food." "This ain't a poor'ouse,*' says she. "This is a Booro." When J. was a-jioin^ -.'.own the stairs, a lady comes af. er me. "Don't cry. Mrs. 'Awkes;" for she had i ii:*k:?d up my name. *T.ve.3o:v.e J-ar'^-? f..: v .1, . S?lLc something' Tor ay DT. " ir ever tnere wes' a Lan? gel in a sealskin jacket and a pb. in little bon? net, but tho true lady ball hover, 'er name wos Mrs. Trevor. Bill, ho looked up from that day and wos on b's keb in a week, and little Jim is the biggest By by in thc court. Mrs Tre? vor never rested till I got three hoffices to clean, to say nothing of 'elping at cleanings and parties in 'oases. She wos that kind too and free, when she'd come hin with noos of some hoiSce. ' 'We're horganizing you, Missus 'Awkes, just splendid," with the prettiest bit smile. Bill, he used to say, " 'Er 'usband's a proud man, for I never .saw the like o' her for a downright lady in 'cr wys," and 'e knows, does Bill, being a kebman. When I told 'im, he wos that bad that 'o never put a match to pipe thc'ole night. "Manar, " 'e says to me, 4 'you and me 'as seen somcthink of her, but you bet nobody knew wot ;\ saint she wos 'xcept 'er 'usband." Trevor could read rio more, for it had dawned at last upon him that Christ had lived with him for more than ten years, and his eyes had been holden. THE END. Tho Story of a Capture. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," said the old forty-niner, "I wouldn't be a-tellin it. In our camp we had got kinder civerlized an unless a feller was strung up immediate fur lift in dust what didn't belong ter him or ridin off with a hoss not havin title ter th' same we locked him up an held him fur a fair trial. We had reg'ler officers an guards an th' convicts had ter work gettin in wood an cleanin up round camp. "One fine lookin feller came in there with his wife, an she war finer lookin nor he was. I never knowed yet whether he done it or not, hut it war charged that he was caught crawlin out from a tent with his pardrer's swag. We caught him an put him inter th' work in gang till the gran jury could set on him. He had a miginy fine hoss that a lot of us wanted ter bay, but his wife wouldn't sell him, an took care of him as good as a man could do. "On a Saturday night that feller broke guard. While we was chasin round a Chinerman noterfied us as how th' man was at home with his wife. They must have heeid us comin, fur there was a rush frtim th' back door, there was as purty a spring inter th' saddle as you ever see, an all of us went clatterin after th' big hoss while his rider waved a hat an mocked at us. We follered fur miles, droppin out one by one, till me an th' sheriff had th' trail. We could change bosses, but fur ten hours that there big black kept th' road an showed us his heels. Then his rider jist coolly got off an set down on a log ter wait fur us. We galloped up with guns in both han's an ordered a sur? render. Durn me if it wasn't th' party woman au we never see either of 'em ag'in.,,-Detroit Free Press. Typographical Bolls. A head writer on the St Paul Pio? neer Press wrote the top line of a "slug head'* this way, "Minnesota a Sheep State." The wooden beaded murderer of common sense set it up "Minnesota a Cheap Skate. " This puts us in mind of two "bulls" made by Gig Martin on the old Omaha Herald in 1886. One night Gig got hold of a chunk of Frank Morrissey's editorial headed "Multum in Parvo, " and he set it up "Mutton in Fargo." Once again Martin caught one of Frank's effusions captioned "A Red Letter Day, * ' and printed it "A Bed Setter Dog." But about the worst break ever made on the old Herald was made by Billy Hardy. The style on The Herald in those days was to hyphenate and abbre? viate to beat the band. For instance, Farn am street was styled "Farnam-st., " and Capitol avenue as "Capitol-av." Hardy lifted a take of commercial re? view off the hook one night, and it quoted Bradstreet as saying this and that Bill, ever mindful of the style and ignoring common sense, arranged the type to read "Brad-st predicts," etc Of course it was "marked" on him, but Bill wouldn't have it. He went down into the proofroom and kick? ed for a "ring, " demanding an apology and wanting to know "if they were go? ing to change the d-d style every day. "-Dyersville (Ia. ) News-Letter JOHNSON'S QUICK WIT. How the Ex-President Displayed It on the Stump In Tennessee. There is in the city of Memphis a precinct known as Pinch, in which a majority of the voters were Irish. It so happened that Andrew Johnson and his opponent for the United States senate, Gus Henry, were to meet In joint de? bate in this'precinct. The evening came, and hundreds of blue Irish eyes were on the two speakers as they ascended the rostrum. Henry opened, and as a bid for the Irish vote he told in withering terms how Johnson, when in congress before, had voted against a bill for an appropriation to assist Ireland during a time of famine. He himself had done yeoman work fer the passage of the bill, while this other man, who was now asking their support, had done every? thing possible to defeat it. It was a fine point, and the speaker made the most of it, burning before it the lamp of his eloquence until the crowd were wild wich excitement. Then He$fty sat down, and Johnson got up amid catcalls and scoffs to answer him. "What my opponent has told you is true," he said. "Ireland was suffering, and I voted against an appropriation for her relief, for tho money which it was thus proposed to give away was not mine, but yours ; yours because it was in the public coffers. I refused to give away money which did not belong to me, but I went down into my own pock? et and out of my own private funds which I had a right to bestow-I sub? scribed ?2'i0 to the relief fund which was being quietly raised. How much of his own money did Mr. Henry give? Not a ! cent. He was too busy trying to give away yours. Now, gentlemen, which of us two did the better part by suffering Ireland:" Tin? effect of this was magical. The catcalls were now for Henry and the cheers for Johnson. Thus the campaign went on, ending in a victory for tho ex-tailor, who oucu more took his place among the statesmen of the land. But his term was a thort one, for death soon claimed him. But he left behind him a reputation as a "stump" speaker which abides still upon the hustings down in Tpnnessee. ? PRINCETON'S SILENT JEHUS. Their Ingenuity In Getting Around a Lo? cal Hoosier Ordinance. "As I stopped to change cars at Princeton, Ind.," said a gentleman who has just arrived in the city from Ken? tucky, "I was greatly puzzled at the sight which met my eyes. Though my home is near Princeton, I had never been in the town before and I had no personal knowledge of the people who lived there. There was great silence at the railway station, and, though many persons were moving about, no one ut? tered a word. 'Is it a town of deaf mutes?1 I said to myself. "But presently my eyes were blinded by many small mirrors, as it seemed to mo, casting a dozen shadows in my eyes from the hands of as many burly ne? groes. It seemed no matter of fun to them to cast these shadows. They were grimacing* contorting their faces and twisting their fingers in a manner strange to see. 'No deaf mutes, but lunatics, ' I said to myself, and I began to look for some safe means of exit. .But these dumb, grimacing creatures were on all sides of the platform and as I advanced one way or the other those at that point lunged toward me and I saw I was a prisoner. "It was a frightful feeling for a few moments, and then a rational explana? tion of the scene was made. Conquering my timidity, I went boldly to one of the biggest of the black men, and, seiz? ing him by the shoulder, I said, as a hypnotist might say, 'What do you mean by casting shadows in my eyes?' The man caught me by the coat sleeve and whispered in my ear: 'I'll tell you, boss, but I has to whisper, 'cause we ain't allowed to talk. You has to come to me. I can't come and git you. They won't let us stand on the platform.' "Then I found out that these silent men had once been the vociferative, shouting hackmen who make themselves BO omnipresent on the platform stations of most small towns. The good people of Princeton determined to live in peace and quiet, and, by act of the city coun? cil, they prohibited the hackmen from using their voices. But even this did not abate the nuisance. The hackmen would run up to the train and almost carry away their patrons by force. So the city council passed a law forbidding them to stand on the platform. Deprived of speech and power of locomotion, these hackmen had a happy thought. Each one bought a bright tin plate and had the name of his hotel embossed on the plate in raised letters. So they all stand there, waving their tin plates and never uttering a sound."-St. Louis Globe-Democrat. THE CARE OF PEARLS. Even a Drop of Lemonade Is Sufficient to Kain Their Appearance. American girls are fond of pearls and have no superstitious fears that they mean ' ' tears. ' ' It may not be known to the possessors of these gems that pearls are regarded as "well" or "ill" from a jeweler's point of view. Like human beings, they require fresh air to be kept alive. In other words, they must be worn and not remain too long in a clos? ed case. Judges of pearls can tell by looking at them whether the gem is "lucido" (clear and healthy), or wheth? er it is beginning to be an invalid. Ex? perts talk of pearls "dying, " they some? times becoming discolored and turning black. A black pearl may be a handsome stone, but it has not the evanescent rainbow suggestions to be seen in a milky or rosy pearl. Italian women, who know a great deal about pearls, wear their necklaces and "ropos" con? stantly. This gives them the light and air required by the mysterious forma? tions, and yet they are not exposed to the chances of discoloration by being touched with acid. It is easier to keep pearls in fair con? dition when they are set in a lacepin or in necklaces. It is hard to care for them in a finger ring. One must bo care? ful to remove them not only in washing the hands, bet they should never be worn when there is likelihood of being touched by food or drink. About a month ago the owner of a beautiful pink pearl worn in a finger ring was alarmed to find the stone was darkening and becoming covered with an opaque dark crust. She took it to her jeweler, who pronounced it a case of ! "scale. " He told her the delicate sub? stance had been in contact with some acid, and as she insisted this had not , happened he reminded her that a drop of lemonade would be sufficient to do the mischief. She then remembered drinking lemonade while the ring was on her ungloved hand. The only remedy for scale is a remov? al of a whole layer of the pearl. This is an excessively deiicata business, which should be done by an expert workman, and never undertaken by apprentice hands. It is a costly business and re? duces the size and value of the pearl that must undergo the operation.-Phil j adelphia Record. Pat's Reasoning. Says a writer in the Manchester Guardian : "A lady of my acquaintance who is ! a proprietress in County Galway is in I the habit cf receiving her own rents. One day, when a tenant farmer had pleaded long and unsuccessfully for a:: abatement, he exclaimed us he handed I over tho money : " 'Well, my lady, all I can say is that if I had my time over again it's not a tenant farmer I'd be. I'd follow one cf the learn'd professions.' "Tho proprietress gently replied that even in the learned professions there were losses as well as gains, and per haps ho would have found professional lifo as precarious as farming. " 'Ah, my lady, but how can that be?' replied the son of St. Patrick. 'It' you'ro a lawyer-win or lose, you're paid. If you'ro a doctor-kill or cure, you'ro paid. If you'ie a priest-heaven or hell, you're paid.' " Cakes of tea in India, pieces of silk in China, salt in Abyssinia and codfish in Iceland have all been used as money. PAINTS I Caveats, and Trade-Marks obtained and all Pat- j fent business conducts* for MODERATE FEES. < SOUP, OFFICE is OPPOSITE U.S. PATENT OFMCE? rana wc can secure patent ia less time than those j rremote iron* Washington. { S Scad model, drawing cr photo., trith descrip-* gtion. We advise, if patentable or not, free of* I charge. Our fee not dae till patent is secured. \ \ A PAM PH LET, u How to Obtain Patents," withi r cost of same in the U. S. and foreign countries J (sent free. Address, 2 C.A.SNOW&CO. OPP. PATENT OFFICE. WASHINGTON. D. C. GMo Charlestffli Ba?va? Gi Conjunctly with the Son??i Carolina & Georaia Bailroa?. Schedule ia effect October 18, 1887. North bound. 7 10 a o Lv 8 57 fl m Lv 10 25 a m Lv 12 05 p 1 05 p 1 45 p 2 30 p 2 56 p 3 30 p 4 50 p 5 20 p 5 55 p 6 12 p 6 27 p 7 30 p a LT m Lv m Lr m Lv m Lv m Lv m LT na LT ED LV m LT m LT m Ar S 0 & G. Charleston Branchville Kingsville O.E AC. Camden Kershaw Lancaster Catawba Jone Rock Bill Yorkville BUcksburg Shelby Henrietta Forest City Rutherfordtoo Marion South bound. Ar 8 00 p m 5 55 p m 4 44 p m Ar Ar Ar Ar Ar Ar 12 Ar ll Ar ll Ar 10 Ar Ar Ar Ar LT CO p ni 00 p m 00 p tn 15 p m 55 a tn 15 a m 10 a m 20 a m 35 a m 20 a m 05 a m 00 a m (Gaffney Division) 6 30 pm LT Blackeborg Ar 7 25 cm 7 05 p m Ar Gaffneys LT 6 EO a m Trains north of Csmden mn daily except Sunday. Trains between Charleston end EmgSTiUe run daily. For information as to rates, Clyde Line Sailing etc., cali on local, contracting and traveling agents of both road?, or E. F. GRAY, Traffic Mangaer. S. B LUMPKIN, Gen.Paps Apt L A. EMERSON, T M. Biacksburg,S. C S. C. & G. R. R Charleston, S C. Atlantic Coast Line. WILM1NGTO*, C0L?MEIA AND AC G US T\u RAILROAD. Mm CONDES ?ED SCHEDULE. TRAINS GOING SOUTH. Dated April 10, 18S8 Leave Wilmington Leave Marion Arrive Florence Lea7e Florance Arrive Sumter Leave Sumter Arrive Columbia No.55. P.M. *4 00 6 43 7 25 P.M. *8 00 9 10 P.M. 9 13 10 30 No .35. AM. ?3 25 4 2? No.52 A.M. *9 37 10 55 No. 52 rune throng*: from Charleston vie Central E. R., leaving Charleston 7 a. as.; Laces 832 a. m., Manning 9 CS a. m. TRAINS GOING N0R7B Leave Columbia Arrive Stinter Leave Sumter Arrive Florene* Leave Florene* Le-VP Marion Arrive Wilmington No ?'* AK ?6 45 8 08 A M. 8 12 9 26 A. M. 9 58 1036 1 20 N'o.53 PM ?5 00 * 2, Po.32 P.M. ?6 36 7 4ft .Daily. fDaily except Sunday. No. 53 runs through to Charleston, S. C., vis Central R. R., arriving Manning 6 57 p. m., Lanes 7 43 pm., Charleston 9 15 p. m. Trains on Conway Branch laave Chad boam ll 43 a. ra., arrive at Cocws) way 140 p.m., returning leave Conway ai 245 p. m., t-ive Chadbouru 5 15 p. ^rr. leare Chadbcura 45 p m., arrive at Hub at C 25 p. m., rororni..?r 'eave Hub 9 25 a. tn arrive at Obacbourn ',0 00 a. m. Daly ex cept Sunday fD*i!y except Sunday. J. . r. SN LY, Gen'! iianager. T. M. F.VRR&GN. Trafrc VUcaeer H. M. EMERSON. Gen'; Pass. Agett. Wilson and Snirton S. B. Infect Jasnarv 15th, 18C6. TRAIN'S GOING NORTH. ! Le?T Wibens Mili* " ?ordos. M Davis, ' 11 Summerton, ? Millari, " Silver, Packeville, M Tindal, " W. ? 8. June, Ar. Suruter. No. 72.? rp ic am 9 3 5 & n? S 45 a m 10 10a m 10 45 a m 11 IO a m j 1 30 p m 11 C5 p m 12 27 p m 12 30 p m TRAINS GOING SOUTH. rvs Sumter. " W. ft S. Jane .. Tinda!. " P&ckevi'.?o. ?: S?'ve?. " Millard ,f Ssmmcrton .' Dav;?. ' Jordon, Ar, Wilson Mill, No 73* 2 30 p m 2 33 p U? 2 5C p as 3 10 p rr 3 35 p D? 3 45 p c 5 20 p vr 5 1:0 c m 6 30 p m Traine r^r^eev Hillard, and St. PKU? 'rave billard !0 15 a tn ard Z 45 p is,. arriving Sr. Paul IC 25 a ra and 3 55 p n. Returning leav? St. FM:1 10 35 a rr and 4 ?C p TB, and arrive Millard 10 45 a m sud 4 20 p m. Dai? ly except Sunday. ?Daily except Sundav :THJMAS WILSON Predsient i